


Innocent Death

by Yunaleskah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Hermione Granger-centric, Lesbian Sex, Mates, Morally Ambiguous Character, Slow Burn, Torture, Very AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2019-11-28 10:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 99,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunaleskah/pseuds/Yunaleskah
Summary: All you need is a bad day, a really bad day for your life to change 180° degrees.*Dark greyish unhinged Hermione.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second fic. I've ever written. The first one being A Flower In The Second Circle. So keep in mind that you are going to find a lot of grammar mistakes. Mainly because I'm not a native English speaker.

Summer is the best season to find robins around northern Britain; they tend to immigrate to these highlands at this time of the year. All of them singing with the hope to find potential mates. Like this lucky one, who already found a mate and now are nesting in a beautiful tall tree next to a big mansion. The nest is hidden among the entwined branches of the tree; no predator could easily spot them. It is the perfect place to wait for their young ones to hatch from their eggs.   
  
“Bombarda Maxima!”  The spell came with such force that the birds resting on the tree didn’t know what hit them before being disintegrated into thin air. Knife-like splinters of wood exploded from the tree, shot in different directions stabbing nearby structures and breaking the glass of the windows. The only intact part that remained was the lowest part of the tree, which was practically the beginning of the roots, the rest of it ended up fragmented in small scraps. Nobody would ever believe that the tree was alive just a few seconds ago.

After the destruction, just silence remained. No birds singing. No rustling of leaves. As if life in the vicinity had suddenly vanished.

Perfect.   
  
The caster removed the Protego that was guarding her against any splinter shot her way. With one simple move from her wrist, the glass started to repair itself as well as the frame of the window, and after a few moments, the curtains were closed once more. Darkness once again invaded the room.     
  
“Bloody birds, I’m trying to sleep here.” Muttered to herself. She aggressively disentangled the knot from the robe as she walked towards the bed, very eager to get into her cocoon of silky duvets again.   
  
_“Maybe next time I just should cast muffliato…Ha! No.”_ A soft smile takes shape on her lips as she is about to be taken by the arms of Morpheus once again. 

* * *

  
“What the bloody hell was that?!” The boy asked, sounding disturbed by the sudden strenuous sound. He looked at the other members around the table; his half-eaten breakfast was long forgotten.    
  
“Draco, watch your language!” Her mother gave him a pointed glare as a form of reprimand, before returning to calmly sip her morning tea.   
  
Draco was about to point out his mother’s indifference when his father chimed in. “It came from the west wing” not lifting his eyes from the Daily Prophet. The man continued being absorbed by his own thoughts, he was considering buying new market stocks, maybe doing some investments in The Bark Brothers Co. could be highly profitable, after all, no matter which side of the war someone might be, everyone needed wands and to make wands you needed wood. He made a mental note to visit later in the week the entrepreneur brothers.     
  
“You say it like it explains anything,” Draco said looking at his father, after few moments of silence.

 Lucius lifted his eyes from the paper, folded it and placed it next to him then gave his boy full attention. “It doesn’t?” He straightened from his seat. Draco gave him an empty glare. Lucius loved his son very much there was no doubt about that, but there were moments like this that sometimes wondered how he could sire a son so obtuse. To add insult to the injury, that moment Narcissa gave him a glare that said among the lines _“It comes from your side of the family.”_ Right, because the Blacks never before married their cousins. But if he wanted to sleep tonight in his marital bed, he better kept that thought to himself.

“Draco, who are the people residing in the west wing?” His tone was borderline patronizing.

“Dolohov, Yaxley, the Carrows, Thicknesse...But none of them are here at the moment” Then his eyes grew wide, coming down to the realization “Oh…”

“Oh, indeed.” Lucius said. Draco stayed deep in thought for a few moments, before returning to his breakfast.

Narcissa turned to look at his husband “Do you still don’t know what is she-” Another strenuous sound came from the vestibule, interrupting her question. Although not as sonorous as the first one yet still strong enough to be clearly heard by the members of the Malfoy family. Muffled swears to become discernable as the angry steps were heading their way.

Narcissa released a small annoyed sigh and bid farewell to her family breakfast she was so much looking for today.

Both doors of the dining hall opened in a disruptive manner. “That bloody wench exploded a tree nearby; I wasn’t even close and I still got hit.” Fenrir Greyback sat at the end of the long table, attempting to lick the bleeding wound on his arm. Elves quickly started to serve him breakfast that mainly consisted of large quantities of raw meat.   
  
The three Malfoys who were quietly observing him couldn’t help but sneer at the disgusting sight.

“Filqui!” The intonation of her voice was soft and moderate. But for the trained ear, as his husband has, it was laced with annoyance.

“Yes, mistress Malfoy” A female elf appeared next to Narcissa, ready to listen to her mistress orders.   
  
Narcissa always being the generous host “Bring a Healing potion for Greyback here. After that, do go outside and repair whatever damage the earlier explosion did to the property, bring the other elves if you have to” The female elf assertively nodded her head and disappeared.

Narcissa swiftly stood up and gently smoothed down her dress, heading towards the entrance of the hall at a quick pace. “Where are you going?” Draco asked looking at her mother who seemed slightly peeved. 

She turned around to look at her son “I’m going to have a conversation with our guest”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Lucius asked still in his seat. Understanding which exact guest her wife was talking about, he preferred to remain in his place.

Narcissa deliberately ignored his question. She spared one last gaze at her family, her eyes drifting again towards Greyback once more. No matter how many lessons of etiquette Narcissa received in her youth for how to conceal her real emotions. Nothing could hold back the grimace that appeared in her face when she looked the disgusting werewolf chewing his meat.    


* * *

 

  
Narcissa arrived at her destination, the farthest room of the east wing. Is been so long since she had come to this side of the Mansion, especially these recent months she had no business coming here. After all, she wanted to avoid any unnecessary contact with the residents of this wing, or the other wing for that matter.

For half a second, she hesitated whether to knock first or just barge her way in. Like today’s episode, this guest tended to have sporadically outbursts of anger or more specifically impulsive destructive behavior. And although rarely happened, it happened. Who knew, if someone were to invade her privacy like Narcissa was about to, how she would react.   
Before she could continue that train of thought her servant interrupted her.    
  
“Mistress Malfoy, Filqui tried to repair most of the damage, but Filqui can’t repair the master’s peacocks. They are dead.” A grimace appeared on the elf features.    
  
“All of them?”  Her eyebrows furrowed; the peacocks weren’t even close from the tree. Just how powerful must have been that spell?   
  
“5 peacocks, mistress” Replied, extending one hand open, displaying her tiny 5 fingers.   
  
She made a motion with her hand to dismiss the elf. She decided to barge in the room with her wand in hand.

The room was mostly dark, only small glimpses of light simmered through the sidelines of the curtains. With one easy movement of her wand, the curtains fully opened, allowing the outside light to fully illuminate the room. Narcissa’s eye roamed all through the room. Her upper lip raised in disgust. To say the room was messy would be an understatement, it was simply in complete chaos. For starters, the smell of cheap alcohol aggressively invaded her nostrils, probably permeating her clothes as she stepped further in. Broken vials and clothes were littered in various areas of the room. Most of the furniture’s surfaces had a paraphernalia of potions and ingredients, and wait… Was that mud on her walls and carpets? Forget about that! Were those books from her personal library?

How and when did she get those?!

“Wake up” A thinned line formed on Narcissa’s lips, “I said wake up” getting angry by the second.

The body between the duvets finally stirred, lazily stretching her arms. “Ugh, what the fuck do you want?”   
  
“What?!” Narcissa screeched. The nerve! She won’t allow this lack of judgment from this filth pass without consequences. A grunt came from under covers “My apologies what I meant was, oh most gracious lady of this mansion, how can I, your humble servant, ask you to leave this room” Narcissa heard enough.  

Narcissa cast a sting hex towards the filth lying on the bed. By the sobs of pain and the fetal form, she was sure she hit her mark square on the chest.   

“That hurt. You win” Said the girl, hardly able to raise half-body from the bed; lifting both hands as a surrender gesture. The girl was naked from the waist upwards, Narcissa could clearly see the profuse mark that left her hex on the girl's chest. If left untreated it, it was sure to leave an ugly bruise later on the day. “You hit really hard Mrs. Malfoy. I can barely breathe” The words didn’t match the body language and the tone of her voice, which was levity even playful. As if all this was just a game. Narcissa, who moments ago was ready to raise a shield in case the girl wanted to retaliate relaxed a little at the flippancy coming from her attitude.

She soon arrived at the conclusion that the girl didn’t have the means to defend herself.   
  
“Miss Granger, is there any particular reason why the room is in such state? And why pray and tell do you have my books?” pointing at the towers of books in the farthest corner.    
  
Hermione took in the state in the room, as if she was seeing it for the first time. Then a slow smiled started to appear on her features. “Because I’m a teenager? And yes, those are definitely the books I borrowed and that I’m planning to return. Cross of my heart” tilting her head slightly as she traced two imaginary lines just above her left breast.   
  
Narcissa rolled her eyes at the childish behavior. The woman decided to store her wand under her sleeve, seeing no use in aimed it to a disarmed child any longer. “No teenager I have ever seen can be this filthy. ” after a pause, tired on the lack of modesty from the girl, Narcissa added “And would you please cover yourself”  as a response to that, Hermione only shrugged her shoulders, then proceeded to remove the rest of the covers and walk towards the wardrobe, leisurely choosing her garments.    
  
“One more thing Miss Granger, what happened to the tree?” Blue eyes looking past the window from where the tree was supposed to be visible.   
  
The rustling of clothes stopped and Hermione peeked out her head from the closet door. “Birds.” said as if that explained everything. Narcissa blinked once, then twice. The blonde opened her mouth for a second then closed it again. She concluded it was better for both parties to not follow that line of questioning anymore. “Be as it may, I’ll ask you to not go randomly exploding trees around the mansion, someone can get seriously injured.”

“Did someone got hurt?” She asked with curiosity in her voice

“Apparently Greyback got an injury in his arm”

A delighted laugh came from the girl. “I hope it gets infected” Her voice sounded joyful.

Narcissa didn’t know how to respond to that. This girl in front of her wasn’t the girl she met in King Cross Station years ago.

Understanding the topic was closed, Narcissa let her eyes roam once more around the room. The first thing her eyes set on was the bed. She didn’t notice it before but the cover seemed ripped on top, as if by they had been the target of a slashing curse. Right then, she saw something coming out under the pillow, walking closer to take a better look, she saw a wand. All this time Hermione had her wand practically in her hand. She wasn’t defenseless as the Slytherin had assumed.   
  
The blonde went on to continue surveying the room, careful to not step on something disgusting. On the small table, the girl had a large supply of dandelion root, dragon claw, valerian roots, fire seed, devil’s snare, moonseed, powered silver…And in the center, there was a small bottle of rare fairy dust. That was a beautification ingredient, why would the girl need that? 

She mentally did all the potions that could be possible to create with that ingredient, but the only one that came to her mind didn’t add up with the rest of the ingredients.   
  
Hurried steps made Narcissa turn around; Hermione took her wand from under the pillow. She was dressed in a dark grey open cloak, displaying the garments under it, leathery black pants and a wine-red laced blouse. She played the very part of an elite witch.

Narcissa sneered at her own idea.

With a quick flick of the girl’s wand, the room started to clean itself.

“Alright, would that be agreeable?” The brunette asked with a gentle smile. In no time the room was fully pristine Narcissa felt speechless for a second, she did notice the girl used a modified version of Scourge charm. And cast a non-verbal spell.  Who trained her? 

Narcissa had the question on tip of her tongue ready to shoot. The one that had been always been in the front of her mind since the girl arrived at the mansion a couple of months ago under the orders of the Dark Lord. Is not she hasn’t asked before but apparently nobody knows anything, not even Bellatrix. The rest of the death eaters knew nothing of this development. Only Draco told her what little he knows. Basically, the girl is highly intelligent and diligent in her studies. That was all.     
  
“Miss Granger, would you mind me asking, what exactly are you doing here?” Her intonation sounding as casual as possible. “I know the Dark Lord brought you here but…”

The teenager was brushing her wavy hair, long left behind the bushy hair she used to have in her earlier years, standing in front of the vanity. She abruptly stopped her activity and turned around to face the Malfoy woman. Narcissa was mesmerized by how the relaxed and playful semblance of Hermione instantly changed and a menacing aura emerged instead. The brunette’s eyes flashed with a warning and with a smile that didn’t reach her penetrating dark brown eyes replied “That’s something you can ask yourself to the Dark Lord, Mrs. Malfoy” Her voice sounded so ominous. Her tone left no room for questions.  Narcissa felt very disconcerted by the sudden change. She was tempted to insist once more, but again her intuition told her that eventually, she will know; she just needed to be patient.         
  
The brunette opened her bedroom door “Now, I’m afraid if I delay any further there won’t be any breakfast for me, and I’m starving. Have a wonderful day Mrs. Malfoy” And with that Narcissa saw the departing figure, leaving her alone in the room.  


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Voldemort’s followers gathered in the drawing room. Everyone was talking animatedly among them, the main topic of discussion being what would be the next course to take in the rising war. The room had too many shadows where someone could hide and their presence would never be noticed. The only source of light was provided by the lit candelabrum hanging from the ceiling, accentuating the atmosphere of secrecy.   
  
Hermione was the last one to arrive at the meeting before Voldemort did. She projected confidence in her eyes, gazing forwards, her shoulders up, her chest out and her chin high. Just like her mother used to tell her. She spared a quick glance towards the long table and its members sitting around it. It seemed to appear that all the death eaters were present. This must be a special night, Hermione thought. Voldemort must be up to something big to gather them all together at the same time. What little she knew about him, was that the man preferred short and personal gatherings. A smart strategy, the girl commended. You tell your allies only the things they need know and nothing more.

The once animated chatter slowly died as everyone lay eyes upon her, some eyes filled with curiosity, other with animosity and disgust. For a few seconds, the only the sound in the room was the brunette’s steps approaching to her chair.   
  
Hermione instantaneously felt the signs of someone or somebodies were trying to break into her mind. That won’t do.  _“Tough luck, guys. This shop is closed.”_ It was the only piece of thought they could withdraw from her mind. Occlumency and Legilimency was essential ability to have if she wanted to be inside in this pit of snakes, she learned that very earlier. 

Whispers rose again, asking the same questions they been have asking among them before

‘Why is she here?’

‘What is the Dark Lord thinking?’

‘Why would he invite a mudblood?’    
  
Tar black eyes were fixed on the girl, disdain marked her features as she was sitting at the farther end of the table, next to the Malfoys. Hermione didn’t need to know what was going through that woman’s mind, her face told her everything she needed to know and a little more.

The brunette was about to take her respective position, just in front of those piercing black eyes, who watched her like a hawk who was about to kill its prey.  To Hermione surprise, she actually didn’t care.

Tonight she felt invisible, and she was going to relish on the feeling as much as she could.   

However, before she could take a seat, Greyback was already waiting for her. He stood up in front of her, intentionally blocking her path. Bored brown eyes looked up to his face, feeling very unimpressed by his intimidation display. “Do you need something?” She asked, giving him a small innocent smile.  

At that instant, the odor that exuded from the wolf reached her nostrils, Merlin it was disgusting. How come she was the only bothered by the smell, she wondered. She almost wanted to gag, she decided to take shallow breaths if she wanted to keep her dinner in her stomach.       
  
Greyback growled, showing his canines. “Your little stunt earlier managed to hit me” His hands opening and closing, claws digging into the skin of his palms.

Some werewolves, Hermione noticed, seemed to have obvious secondary effects from lycanthropy. In his case is a large amount of fur on the face even in human form and the short but sharp claws. Hermione almost felt sympathy for the guy, unlike the types of Lupin, Greyback couldn’t walk freely in the wizarding world without any sort of discrimination. Well, if he wasn’t a Most Wanted by the Ministry anyway. But still, that guy got the worst of the lycanthropy gene pool.        
  
“And you want me to do what? To kiss it better?” Even though the smell was murdering her sense of smell, her smile stretched wider. She wondered for a moment if Greywolf has ever taken a bath, in his life.    

“I want to get even.” said the werewolf stepping closer in her personal space. Oh, scratch that, Fenrir got the worst of any kind of gene pool.   
  
Hermione couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter; her shoulders slightly shook in amusement. Realizing that the werewolf wasn’t laughing with her, her eyes went wide with surprise “Oh, you are not joking? You are serious!” Her smile went wider again. Hermione clicked her tongue. He looked like the moron could barely hold a wand from the right end. “Well big boy, here I am” The right hand already grasping her wand under her grey robes, ready to fire.

Severus Snape is a man that he can’t be easily taken by surprise. The professor personally prided himself in always being two steps ahead against his adversaries. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he was shocked. Distressed, yes. Pleasantly surprised, yes that too. But never shocked.   
  
But this, this is something he did not see coming. He was never been so shocked to see a ghost, not that the potions master was ever scared of such spectral manifestations mind you. What astonished him is that this ghost was very much alive. Regardless that she has been presumed officially death months ago. Actually, all her close friends mourned her; they hold a small intimate funeral at Hogwarts. But alas, she was very much alive and kicking.

What was going on?   
  
Alive, but who knows for how long, as she was throwing herself in harm’s way by provoking Greyback.   
  
He stepped from the shadows that were keeping his presence hidden and approached the pair “I see you are still recklessly stupid, Granger.” The man said in his slow monotonous voice as he got closer to the party.  If Hermione was surprised to see him, it didn’t show on her face.   
  
“Well, my dear Greyback here wanted a pissing contest. And I’m _very_ willing to give him a demonstration” Her gaze never straying from the tall figure’s hands and the rest of his body language.   
  
“The only demonstration will be me eating your entrails” Snarled.    
  
“I love when you talk dirty to me”   
  
Bellatrix cracked a short-lived smile at the girl’s words. “She is about to be ripped into shreds.” Her voice laced with glee.

“I don’t know Bella” Responded Narcissa, who sat next to her “Granger is not…normal” her blue eyes glued to the girl and the werewolf. The girl looked almost relaxed, confident.

“What does it have to do with anything?”

The blonde turned her head towards her sister “That looks can be deceitful; I think she is very powerful if not at least sufficiently skilled”

Bellatrix scoffed at what she thought was a ridiculous insinuation “Not likely.” she paused for a moment “Had you talk to her?”

Narcissa pursed her lips. Considering whether or not to tell her sister what happened earlier in the morning… “No.” No use in telling something she doesn’t even understand.    
  
Hermione knew the situation could only go two ways, either she pulled out her wand and Severus shoots her with a spell, whatever that might be, or Greyback pulls out his wand and she attacks him. Everything would look fair and square.  
  
And by the lack of ‘enthusiasm’ coming from the werewolf, he was thinking almost the same thing.   
  
_“Maybe if I say something about his smell that be eno-”_  
  
“Is there a problem?” A rough guttural voice sounded in the room the Dark Lord’s words sounded more filled with reprehension than any sort of concern or interest for their spat. He stepped into the room with Nagini beside him, and Wormtail trailing behind.

Hermione withdrew her gaze from Greyback. Confident that wolf won’t dare to do anything in the presence of their Lord, Hermione passed by the werewolf, pushing his side with her shoulder. She heard Greyback growl at her again. It made her smile. She liked to take small pleasures even the grim, threatening occasions  
  
Finally, she took her respective seat. In the opposite side of the table sat Bellatrix, who was giving her a haughty glare but the disgust never fading.

_‘Oh, joy.’_

Not a few minutes later, the tugging inside her chest started to increase. Hermione knew this might happen. After all, this was the first time she was so close to _that thing._ Luckily the vial she drank earlier helped her decrease the intensity of the symptoms

The brunette wanted to release a heavy sigh. But it’ll be very imprudent to do it.

The Dark Lord sat at the end of the table as it was the tradition, his long fingers grasping the edge of the long ebony furniture. Like always, the brunette thought, he was looking intimidating and frightening. His ruby red eyes contrasted with the ashen white of his skin and his handsome cloak was as dark as the void itself. The mere sight of Voldemort sent shivers through her spine, but for how he looked like, it was more for what he was capable of doing. And with that knowledge always in her mind, Hermione thought that she might never get fully used to his unsettling presence.   
  
Everyone kept silence in anticipation for their Lord’s words. “Welcome my most loyal followers” a smile formed on his lips as he made a pause addressing everyone with his eyes who looked at him expectantly. “Tonight, we start the planning of the third phase of our plan: We will take the ministry” immediately everyone cheered and smiled, open palms hitting the table, while Bellatrix loudly cackled as a form of acclamation.

When everyone quieted down once more, the Dark Lord continued. “But first, I would like to welcome the newest member to our circle: Hermione Granger” nobody applauded this time. Hermione stood gave a short bow towards everyone in the room, internally amused by the facial expressions that ranged from disgust, confused and distrusting looks.   
  
Hermione wondered if someone would protest against her presence. Or would it be like she thought it’ll be: Everyone here, feared the Dark Lord to such an extent that even if his decision were questionable, nobody would dare to say anything.  

Or maybe even Voldemort himself would be in the generous mood to provide explanations to their many questions.       
   
Nobody dared to speak first. Then a meek voice, one that Hermione didn’t recognize, asked. “My Lord is this wise?”

“She is friends with Harry Potter.” Someone else said.

“She might be a spy!” A shrill voice spoke, undoubtedly Alecto Carrow’s croaks

“She was fighting along with Harry Potter in the department of mysteries, of course she is a spy” Dolohov replied.

“Then what is she doing here?” …Ah, Lucius. Of course.     
  
Voldemort looked at the brunette. “What do you have to say to these accusations?”   
  
All eyes were on her, judging her, expecting her to say the wrong thing.  The eyes that weren’t looking at her expectantly were Voldemort’s as for he already knew the answers _‘Could he trust her?’ ‘Is she a spy?’ ‘Is she truly friends with Potter?’_   

She walked on side of the seated members, scanning with her brown eyes for a specific person among the seated members “Antonin Dolohov can attest my loyalties” unintelligible murmurs roused, everyone turned to see Dolohov   
  
Dolohov sat on the other end of the table, released a breathy chuckle “She is crazy, I don’t know what she is talking about.”      
  
Hermione tilted her head slightly, insinuating that he was the one who is confused “I think not, Mister Dolohov. You just have to answer honestly.” She started walking slowly towards the other end of the table.  
  
“Now, while you and the rest of the Death Eaters were waiting for your one-way trip to Azkaban. An Auror did a midnight visit in your cell, to torture you. And after 30 minutes of torture of your wailing and shouting. Did or didn’t you receive 12 wands and note from your torturer?”      
  
“…Yes.” his earlier smile quickly turned into a frown. He twisted in his seat; the brunette could only assume it’s because he was recalling the good times in that cell.      
  
“And did or did not the note specifically read: Free the rest of your partners, fail and you’ll die.” She paused for a moment allowing the information to be absorbed. “Well, you see. I was the Auror… Is amazing what a little bit of information, some female seduction, and a batch of Polyjuice can do.”   
  
“Look at it this way guys” This was the first time in the night she decided to look at them, truly see their faces and memorize every single one of them, so it will remain embedded in her memory, to savor the expression on their faces. “Was it not for me you all be smooching with Dementors right now.” And for the final blow. “As for your accusations, well, there is a reason why it is I, who is sitting next to our Lord and not any of you.” Yes, just as she wanted, most of them were twisting in their chairs, feeling humiliated.    
  
Then she turned around to face Voldemort “But if my Lord says that is not enough to prove my loyalty, I will keep trying. I’m ready for any task my Lord is willing to give me.” She gave him a soft bow.   
  
“Your eagerness is welcome, Hermione.” Replied the dark wizard, sounding pleased and satisfied with how the girl acted. He made a motion with his hand for the girl to take her seat again.   
  
 “Now, we have wasted much time with this. Let’s start with the plans”

*****************************************************************************************

  
Time tends to pass quickly when you are planning nefarious deeds, or so Hermione thought. The meeting ended up with a lot of viable plans to overtake the ministry, now there was the small conundrum of which one could bring easily their plans into fruition.   
  
And of course, there were a few loose ends here and there but that’s what the Death Eaters were for. Hermione made a few proposals at which the Lord seemed pleased. And the rest of the members seemed more appeased by her presence. Everyone, except Bellatrix… And Greyback. But still, she counted it as a triumph.      
  
“Everybody can leave! Except for Hermione and Bellatrix, I have a task for both of you” Voldemort waved his hand in dismissal.   
  
After the last member closed the door behind him, Voldemort stood up from his chair making a motion to both women to follow him towards the table and the maps fixed on the wall behind him.

“The request is simple yet it requires precision” Hermione followed the imaginary line the white ashen finger was tracing in the north of United Kingdom. “Here” The pointed what looks like a small town “And here” another town southeast from the first. “These are the places where Igor Karkaroff was been seen” Black dots appeared in the map between both towns. “I believe that he is hiding in any of those marked areas”   
  
Hermione was surprised to hear the name. She remembers Karkaroff, he was the headmaster of Durmstrang. A scary man, for what she remembers. He is a powerful wizard, an avid practitioner of the dark arts according to Victor Krum. And of course, an Ex-death eater.   

“You want me to find him, my Lord?” Asked Bellatrix excited at the idea of possibly killing him.   
  
Hermione took notice of how Bellatrix said ‘me’ instead of ‘us’. Like she wasn’t present at all.   
  
“Absolutely not, Karkaroff is not stupid, he’ll smell you miles away before you find him.” Three red dots appeared inside the towns. “But he won’t smell Hermione, as she is not as famous as you, and she is dead. Therefore, we use this as an advantage”   
  
Before Hermione could say something Bellatrix stepped closer to Voldemort “My lord, are you sure the mudblood is reliable?” venom barely restraining to come out her mouth.   
  
Hermione clenched her jaw tight “The same thing could be said about you.” The brunette muttered.    
  
“I’m not filth like you!” Spoke in an arrogant tone.   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, and then directed her attention towards the dark wizard. Summoning every little piece of information, she knew about the woman Hermione response to her attacks were as petty as the woman next to her. “She is mentally unstable, my Lord. Do you believe she isn’t going to be a liability in this mission?” She knew she was wrong. The girl was aware that Lestrange was a force to be reckon with.      
  
  
“You better shut your mudblood mou-”

“Silence! Both of you!” This is the first time Hermione saw him angry or annoyed, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter, as the sight itself was unsettling.

“But My Lord-”

There was no early indication or any sort warning for what the lord was about to do, when Hermione saw she was already in the middle of it.  

In an almost invisible movement of his wrist, Voldemort had cast a non-verbal Aguamenti. The spell was strong enough to wrap them in a large sphere of water levitating in the air almost touching the ceiling. Both witches, being caught unprepared, were struggling inside the large sphere. Feet and hands moved desperately towards the surface and catch a breath of air before the internal currents drag them to the center again.

Hermione felt how the last bubbles of oxygen left her lungs; he was going to drown them.   
  
And just as suddenly as it was cast, he unexpectedly broke the spell.   
  
Both women fell on the floor, loudly coughing and gasping for air. “I hope this will serve as a reminder to not question me like that, Bellatrix.” The dark witch coughed water as a response. Hermione wanted to ask if this was reprimand for Bellatrix, then why she was included in the punishment. Hermione felt dizzy for the first seconds feeling like she was about to pass out. And damn that bloody tugging in her chest that has been bothering all night didn’t help her situation.  
  
The witches hurriedly stood up, not wanting to upset the man further.   
  
“Hermione you’ll survey the black areas.” Voldemort continued his explanation. “These two red dots are our spies.” One dot appeared in the first village and the second dot on the village down south. “They will inform of any activity they see of Igor; your main task is to find where he is. Do you understand?”     
  
“Yes, my lord”   
  
“When you find him, you’ll notify Bellatrix with this coin” Putting the coin on the girl's hand. “Bellatrix you’ll be the one to kill him and Hermione will act as your support.”   
  
“An owl will arrive these next days; my spies are waiting for Igor to appear again, assuming that he hasn’t moved from the area. You’ll be leaving immediately after that. Be ready”

Bellatrix and Hermione nodded once more.   
  
He turned around, ignoring the witches’ presence. They were being dismissed.

Hermione grasped her wand tight as she walked towards the exit; She could hear the click of Bellatrix’ heels trailing close behind her. She knew what was going to happen right after they leave the room. Bellatrix will threat or attack her or maybe both. 'Because reasons'. She seemed predictable like that. She did multiple set of strategies in her brain, it was obvious that Bellatrix will be the first to attack so a Protego was the only option, then maybe she shall hit her with a Stupefy or an Expeliarmus. An Incarcerus could be better; it won’t do any good to hurt her.  She held her breath as the door was closing behind them. She won’t be caught unaware.

She was ready.   
  
Bellatrix walked past by her. Dark locks bouncing up and down contrasting with the fair skin from her naked shoulders. The brunette watched how the already dried up retreating figure disappeared between the shadows of the hallway.

The girl looked down at her robes; drops of water continuously falling on the carpet.    
  
She felt like a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. Probably I won't be able to update for at least 2 weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

It was one hour after midnight when Hermione finally arrived at her bedroom door. The feeling of exhaustion was catching up to her, but still, she had some research to do before going to bed. And maybe a bath would be nice too, so she can wash off the disgusting smell from Greyback.  
  
She placed her hand on the knob, but just before twisting her wrist the action came to a halt. Hermione hesitated and stayed still for a moment; the knob was warm.

Someone broke her magical seal on the door.

 _‘Could have been the house cleaning elves.’_ Her mind helpfully supplied.

She released the handle and kneeled at the entry. Brown eyes carefully observed the gap between the dark mahogany heavy door and the floor. She saw that the lime powder, the one she always draws at the entry of the room every time she leaves, had been smeared. The windows in the corridor were closed, so the wind couldn’t have blown it.  
  
The next possibility could be that someone stepped on it. There wasn’t a trail of white steps outside, which meant that whoever was inside is still there.  
  
The windows inside her room were sealed magically, besides the room was protected with multiple anti-apparition charms; this is the only way someone could enter or leave.

Hermione released a tired sigh, this pure-bloods relied so much on magic that sometimes they forget there are simple ways to spot a presence other than runes and charms, that it could be easily broken knowing the right equations to dispose of them.

Morons.     
  
She took a deep breath and willed her mind to be blank.  
  
The brunette slowly opened the door, only a small gap wide enough to cast a non-verbal spell to light the candle inside the whole room. Right after she kicked the door open, briskly entering to the room pointing her wand in all directions, brown piercing eyes scanning for any sort of movement.  
  
She spotted the intruder sitting on the sofa in front of the tea table. Seeing that she wasn’t in any sort of danger, she lowered her wand.    
  
“Ugh, what do you want?”  Feeling already peeved by his presence. She never liked the man. Yet she must confess, it was little comforting seeing a familiar face.  
  
“Answers and you have them.” He crossed his legs and put his arm on the armrest, looking like he was planning to stay for a long time.

And clearly, he didn’t want to elaborate further.  
  
“I might ask the same thing, Professor Snape.” She replied with an accusative tone while she took a seat in front of him. The girl understood what kind of answer he was looking for, but if she was about to be questioned might as well get something out of it.    
  
Snape's face remained impassive, something she expected from the most monotonous man in the wizarding world. Both stayed silent for a moment, she could only assume he was considering his next words.  
  
Her robe was starting to feel stuffy on her body, she took this moment of silence as a chance to get rid of the garment; she reached with both hands to untie the knot on her upper chest almost close to the neck. She’d swear, it was only three seconds that her gaze strayed from the Potions Master, but those seconds were enough for him to stand up and point his wand at her. The move was so rapid that she barely had managed to reach for her wand.  
  
The wizard’s face was grave and attentive, a flicker in his deep eyes showed his sudden menacing nature. “Move another muscle and it’ll be the last thing you do.” Hermione backed away further on the seat, breathing hard, her hands clutching the soft material of the sofa. The air in the room tingled with tension. Snape's eyes remained bent on the girl. “You came to my office about the essay you wrote for the Draught of Peace brew what did I say to you?”  
  
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “That if I got ‘acceptable’ was because I didn’t stir correctly enough.”  
  
“I’ll answer one question, but first you answer mine” Snape spoke sternly, putting away his wand, as he sat again on the love seat. 

Hermione inspected the man from her seat. He looked so tired, he had deep dark circles under his eyes, it was evident he was very stressed. His skin had an unhealthy color. And he had lost some weight. Yet he looked well groomed, he was recently shaved, and his hair was clean. Although his robes looked very tidy, the lower ends were tattered.

 _‘You have been very busy. Doing what, exactly?’_ These last weeks, things around here have been inactive. Yet Severus looked like he has been running errands non-stop.

“Explain how you ended up in the service of Voldemort”

“Ha! That’s a very loaded question, for that, I deserve more than one answer from you.” Crossing her legs “Besides I wouldn’t know where to start”  

“From the beginning would be agreeable”

“That’s a long story”

“Then you better start now” He wasn’t going anywhere apparently.  
  
_‘What if I say no. What would you do, Severus?’_  The brunette refrained herself to voice it. She’ll indulge this, and see where it’ll take them both.

* * *

  
_Everyone knew what happened the night where Remus Lupin was confronting Pettigrew. He forgot to drink his wolfsbane potion and ended turning into a werewolf in front of the three friends. In order to provide some sort of protection for the trio, who were watching the scene unfolding with fear and perplexity, Sirius Black turned into his animagus form and did everything he could to keep the werewolf away from the children._  
  
_Harry and Hermione managed to run towards the forest with Lupin on their tail. But just when Lupin was about to strike Hermione, out of nowhere Buckbeack the hippogriff appeared to save them._  
  
_And that’s the story that many in the Order believe. Because is the only one they know._  
  
_While the story was mostly true, it wasn’t entirely accurate._  
  
_That night Buckbeack arrived seconds later, just right after Lupin managed to dig his fangs on Hermione’s ankle._  
  
_What happened hours later was a trip to St. Mungos, where Hermione although not gravely injured, she was in what was the wizardry equivalent of Intensive Care Unit. The doctor tried to counter the effects of lycanthropy. If treated early, the malady would not spread fully into her body and she would be safe from turning into a werewolf every full moon. They kept monitoring her all night. The doctors were confident that, with the potions they were using, Hermione would have a normal life._  
  
_It didn’t work._  
  
_Remus didn’t renounce to his position as a teacher only because his lycanthropy status came out to the public. The truth was that he couldn’t bear the shame of his atrocious mistake. He couldn’t face the girl anymore. He will never forgive himself._  
  
_The only ones who were aware of Hermione’s new status were Dumbledore, Sirius, Harry, Ron of course Lupin. As Dumbledore explained the fewer people knew the better, if word got out and reach the board of parents, they would immediately demand the permanent expulsion of Hermione._  
  
_As for Hermione, at the beginning she just wanted to die; she felt her life was over. An enormous burden has been put on her shoulders at such a young age. It took a lot of comfort and encouragement from both of her friends to understand that her life wasn’t ruined. At least not entirely as Ron put it, who earned a reproachful glare from Harry. They tried to convince her that things haven’t drastically changed._

_It was the first time Hermione saw pity in her best friend’s eyes._

_She didn’t like it._

_As long as she had the wolfsbane potion with her, probably things could be bearable for her, she concluded weeks later. Getting the ingredients for the potion wasn’t that complicated with Dumbledore’s help. The complicated part was to make it. It took arduous long hours of daily training for Hermione to master the correct way to make it._

_It took time, but gradually she learned to live with her lycanthropy. She was always conscientious to keep a large supply of wolfsbane wherever she went, therefore every full-moon she’ll lock herself in one of the dungeons provided by Dumbledore, and spent the night there till the next day._

_The first time she transformed was painful as it was traumatic. She’ll never forget the sound of her bones cracking or her skin breaking and contorting to take a new shape. Dumbledore did everything in his power to help her ease the transformation. He was with her every step of the way, casting pain relief charms when needed._

_One day, an idea crossed the brunette’s mind. She thought maybe because Dumbledore felt very guilty about her condition, it was the reason why he was always buying her the wolfbane’s ingredients and helping her through her transformation. She never dared to ask him though._

_As time passed by, she did experience some subtle changes in her. Her reflexes were keener; her capability to retain information increased, even more. Books she read a year ago were still fresh in her mind. Generally speaking, she felt herself with more energy, nothing drastic but it gave her an edge at the time to study for her tests. Thankfully nobody noticed these changes. Everyone just assumed she was being even nerdier than normal._  
  
_She was deeply grateful that Harry and Ron were always supportive of her. Although every time when the full moon approached, she could feel that they were acting slightly wary of her. It crossed her mind that they might think that there’ll be an occasion where she will forget to drink the wolfsbane, just like Lupin did, and harm them or even kill them. Don’t they know her? She would never commit that kind of mistake. Still, she brushed away it, even if their distrust slightly bothered her, she never expressed it. She convinced herself that it wasn’t something to pay attention to._  
  
_Life at Hogwarts continued as normal as it could be._  
  
_Everything was well._  
  
_Until it wasn’t_

_That night in the department of mysteries, as Hermione would put it, everything went to hell._

_Everyone saw how Bellatrix threw the killing curse to Sirius Black; how his body went through the ancient doorway, disappearing into the veil. A soul-wrenching scene, mostly for Harry._

_Everyone saw how Harry blinded by rage and driven by revenge gave immediate pursue to Bellatrix Lestrange who was cackling madly at her misdeed, taunting him and calling him names. Harry rapidly caught up to her, shortening the large distance between them. He raised his wand and in a failed attempt, he tried to Crucio the woman. Compared to the unbearable pain intensity of the curse, Bellatrix only felt the minor tickle of a needle piercing her skin, which only made her fall on her knees, this caused her to laugh even more._  
  
_Hermione and the rest of her friends quickly followed suit after Harry ran to pursue the dark witch, all of them watched the scene unfolding between the boy and Lestrange. Yet not nobody got closer._  
  
_The earlier tug Hermione felt in the room of prophecies, just when the death eaters appeared, started again. But this occasion the intensity felt stronger, extending in her whole body as she saw Bellatrix. This time though, she at the mercy of Potter. And something dark and twisted born from the sight. She couldn’t put a name to what she was feeling at that moment; it could only be described as an irrational strong compulsion to protect the woman. She felt very disturbed. One side of her, the insane part, as Hermione later came to call it, urged her to attack Harry._

_She felt outraged with herself for just thinking about it._

_She didn’t understand anything that was happening to her at that moment._  
  
_The tugging became almost unbearable like something wanted to crawl out of her body. It grew stronger in her chest, her mind was pulsing, her breathing accelerating, fight instincts urging her to move yet she remained rooted in her spot, feeling if she were to move a muscle would be only to shot curses at Harry…_

 _The next 2 minutes happened in slow motion to Hermione._  
  
_“For the spell to work, you have to mean it…You know the spell. Kill her” Harry heard the voice of Voldemort in his head, persuading him, subtle mockery in his words; implying that the boy didn’t have it in him to do it._  
 _Right after, the Dark Lord manifested behind Harry. The boy not being fast enough to defend himself, with a single flick of Voldemort’s hand the dark wizard managed to disarm Potter._  
  
_That moment Hermione saw from the corner of her eye how Neville was crossing the auditorium as subtle and fast as he could. He was heading towards Bellatrix who was entranced by the scene unfolding between her lord and the boy._  
  
_Hermione eyes drifted once more to Harry and saw how Dumbledore came out from one of the many Floo Networks connected to the ministry, stepping forward becoming a shield between Potter and Voldemort, both wizards exchanged words. But nothing Hermione could make out for her distance._

 _She couldn’t resist the tugging in her chest anymore, it was turning to become painful… So, she moved._  
  
_Where Harry failed, Neville took the opportunity. He had been looking for a chance of vengeance long ago. It was long overdue. If he couldn’t bring his parents back, then he will at least avenge them. He will be known for the boy who defeated Bellatrix Lestrange._  
 _He got close enough to the witch, he mustered all his energy and concentration towards the target. With an abrupt movement from his wrist, his wand sent the most powerful Stupefy he has ever done._  
  
_Neville he didn’t even manage to assimilate the unconscious woman that was lying a few meters ahead from him. As someone behind him shouted ‘Expulso’ the blast that came after, launched him towards the front wall, making him lose consciousness in the process._

 _The flavor of vengeance and retribution never came for Neville._  
  
_Harry saw it, her friends saw it. Dumbledore and even Voldemort saw it._

_Everyone saw it._

_How Hermione stood shocked, frozen in place as her wand pointed towards a bleeding Neville._

* * *

 

“Then what happened?”

“Wait, you are not going to ask why did I attack Neville?”  
  
“Although rare, you are not the first case, possibly neither last one I’ll hear, Granger.” Said in a bored tone, so far, the man hadn’t shown any significant emotion through her story.

Hermione wondered if the professor had any other facial expression besides constipation.

The girl looked at him as if he was a puzzle to solve, she knows the man is very smart, an erudite in the potions field and very quick-witted. He wouldn’t have survived this far if he had a cell of foolishness in his body. So, what was he doing here listening to a girl’s tale? He said he wanted answers… Why though? Is he driven by curiosity? No. he doesn’t look the type, nothing with him is without motive.

_‘Maybe…No.’_

“All right” Clasping her hands over her crossed legs. Giving up the questions for the moment, she continued her tale. “As you must already know Voldemort and Dumbledore engaged in a duel. I barely remember what happened”

“I remember Harry shook me by the shoulders asking multiples times. ‘Why did you do it? What were you thinking?’ but I just could not answer.”  Frowning as it trying to remember something else but nothing detailed came to mind  
  
“Next thing I remember we were at Grimmauld mansion. Neville was sent to St. Mungos just after we arrived. The boys were furious at me” She released a humorless chuckle “I have never seen them so angry with someone like they were with me in that moment” She took a pause, recalling the memory and saw something that she didn’t see at first.  “Now that I think about it, I don’t think they were furious for the sole reason I attacked Neville, I’m convinced that their source of anger came more from the fact that I made them lost a lifetime opportunity to cripple Voldemort by removing his lieutenant.”  
  
“The rest of the Order was aware of what happened in the next few hours. They all thought I had gone mad or something. Others believed Bellatrix or Voldemort cast the Imperius curse on me. It was then when they told me that Voldemort and Bellatrix had managed to escape.”

"Things went south from there" She swallowed trying to keep at bay the sour taste in her mouth “Three days later after the incident Dumbledore called me to his office. Like you, he had figured it out the moment he saw it.”

* * *

 

_“Hermione, please have a seat.” Dumbledore welcomed her with the warm paternal voice that characterized him, sky blue eyes looked at her with concern. “I want to apologize first; I’ve been meaning to talk to you. However, the Ministry took most of my time these days. I’m sorry” He put a cup of warm tea in front of her “Tell me, child. How are you?” asked as he sipped his tea._   
_**  
‘** Miserable, worried and anxious.’ She thought_

_“I’m fine.” Said the brunette shrugging her shoulders. Dumbledore gave her a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “Hermione, I want to talk about what happened at the department of mysteries” His voice was soft and comforting. Yet, Hermione still managed to visibly flinch at the mention of it. “Don’t worry, there is nothing wrong, you did nothing bad. And that’s something I’ll explain later to your friends.”_  
  
_Hermione wanted to cry at the mention of her ‘friends.’ She wondered if they were really still her friends. She knew the relationship with them had taken a heavy blow, and in moments like this, she wondered if they could ever go back to what it was before all this. The only one that didn’t frown at her was Luna, but Hermione wasn’t even close to her. She didn’t have anyone to comfort her, Ron and Harry had shunned her these last three days. Although they haven’t said anything directly at her face, it was obvious they were more than wary of her. If today fight was anything to go by, they were already brushing the boundaries of estrangement._

 _Despite the opportunity they gave her to defend herself, she couldn’t explain something that she didn’t even understand. Naturally, they didn’t believe her. It hurt deeply. Her lips trembled, her throat got increasingly painful and constricted. She quickly dried the welled-up tears in her eyes._  
  
_“I have my suspicious for what you did to young Longbottom. Allow me to illustrate.” Said the wizard while giving her handkerchief “There are some side effects that can manifest on then victims that tend to suffer from the lycanthropy curse. You see, some victims might have a keener sense of smell or hearing, nothing extraordinary mind you, while others when they experience fear, they feel the compulsion to growl or even bark. However, in your case, it was something even rarer according to researches.”_  
  
_He cleared his throat little. His eyes displayed sympathy. Hermione’s stomach dropped to the bottom. That could only mean what he was about to say was going to be bad._  
 _She told herself that whatever it was, she will overcome it with time. She learned to live with lycanthropy. Whatever happened, she would handle it. How worse can things get, right? An if Dumbledore offered his support then maybe it’ll be bearable._

_“I believe when you saw Ms. Lestrange you imprinted, or more like you wolf found its mate.”_

_‘…What?’_  
  
_“I-I don’t understand.” Her voice cracked._  
  
_“Neither do I, nobody seems to understand how it works. The cases are too rare, adding the fact that not many people are willing to study the victims of this curse…”_  
  
_“No!! I meant I don’t understand what the bloody you mean by that!!… The imprinting thing” she didn’t mean to raise her voice and sound so angry and desperate. Dumbledore overlooked her outburst and displayed another comforting smile._

 _Hermione wanted to rip it from his face._  
  
_“Simply put, your wolf finds Ms. Lestrange as an equal, a mate. To my understanding it has something to do with the origin of the curse; all of this is just rumors. Of course, nobody for certain can trace the origin of the malady.”_

_She had never read any of this in any of the lycanthropy books she possessed._

_“A dark wizard wanted to test the limits of the animagus form, which his, was a wolf. Driven by the stories of Vánagandr, the father of all wolves, he tried to make something similar to himself. After many years of failures, one day he did it. He succeeded at a great price, I’m afraid. For when he turned into a werewolf, he became this frenzied beast. That very night he killed his wife. The aftermath you can imagine, he was devastated. As time passed by, the sadness became bitterness; one day he decided to turn his condition into a curse. Infecting many people”_  
  
_“If the story were to be true, that emotion of love he felt for his wife was transmitted onto the curse. Making some infected capable of imprinting.”_  
  
_“With all due respect, professor. But that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard” She was slightly surprised by her level of venom her comment was voiced_  
  
_“Yes, might sound a little bit silly.” the kind man said. “But whatever is the origin of lycanthropy and its effects, doesn’t make it any less true from what you are experimenting right now.”_  
  
 _All this felt so disheartening._  
  
_“Hermione, please answer honestly. How do you feel?” Asking with concern._  
  
_‘I feel happy, ecstatic, over the fucking bloody moon… How do you think I fucking feel?!’  She was very close to snap again at the man._

 _‘What the fuck did it mean to be imprinted to Bellatrix Lestrange?’_  
  
_“Do you feel restless? Do you feel empty? Like all of the sudden something in your life is lacking, but you cannot say exactly what it is? Do you feel the pain in your chest?” To Hermione, he seemed he didn’t want to upset the girl further, but with his line of questioning all it did to her was to feel worse by the second._  
  
_“…Yes” She uttered. She crumbled._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what do you think... :)


	4. Chapter 4

“Didn’t he tell you that there is a draught that lessens the symptoms? Is the same one the Veelas use when turns out their prospect mates doesn’t reciprocate the veela’s feelings” He explained, there was a slight inflection of curiosity and confusion in his voice.  
  
Hermione laughed at his words. Like the professor just had suggested something ridiculous. “Of course not.” responded  
  
The professor almost imperceptibly raised his chin and pursed his lips, but it was enough to detect the annoyance in his face, Hermione grinned “Let’s just say that would have been useless according to his plans.” Said the girl, extending her arms on the backrest of the sofa.  
  
“As I was saying, one week later the man called me to his office again. This time though, he said that we should go to somewhere else to talk. We took the floo network from his office to Diagon Alley. He didn’t explain the reason why we were there, later on I just assumed he wanted to cheer me out for how sour things have been in my life recently. You know, he always being the kind and considerate man...” Barely holding the sour taste in her mouth. “I could have never seen it coming”

* * *

  
_Hermione and Dumbledore were sitting in the upper terrace of one of the many picturesque coffee shops around the alley. Today, in particular, was a delightful day, the usual grey clouds were replaced with clear blue-sky, warm rays of light that filtered through the leafy tall trees and the soft breeze that carried around the sweet smells of flowers from the nearby gardens. Oh, sweet mid-afternoons of summer days, you don’t see too many of these days in Britain._

_From time to time Hermione’s eyes strayed towards the people passing by, as they leisurely walked down the narrow streets. Some of them were window shopping, like the children who gathered at the corner of the street, hoping to take a peek through the window’s display at this year’s new broom models, while many others were enjoying the shopping spree that this season had to offer._

_To the brown-eyed girl, everyone looked brighter, cheerful, relaxed. Like there was nothing wrong and everything right in their lives. She could see how many families took the opportunity of this sunny day to walk with their children. The brunette could hear the squeals of laughter coming from some of the children nearby._  
  
_And all she could think of was that she wanted to mute their stupid laughs._  
  
_She looked down to her table. Her tea was cold. Untouched._  
  
_So far Dumbledore has been doing only small talk, about her grades, the weather, anecdotes of his life at Hogwarts. For what she could only nod and answer politely when asked. She truly wasn’t in the mood to talk or to have company, of any sort. Wasn’t that obvious? And, what was Dumbledore trying to do? To cheer her up? Doesn’t he have more pressing matters than trying to worry about a teenage girl?_

_Maybe he did feel guilty, after all._

_‘Or maybe he wants to tell me something important’_  
  
_Whatever his intentions might be, the brunette just wanted to be left alone, so she can drown further into her misery. Now she had to pretend she was listening to the professor telling another anecdote of his younger days._

_‘Half smile, eyes forward, nod every time he makes a small pause in the conversation, stop smiling if he stops smiling, and blink often.’ She wondered if that was enough to fool the headmaster._

_‘Probably not’ Her mind supplied, but she trusted that he wasn’t going to call her on that._

_She took a sip of her cold tea, feeling the unsavory liquid passing through her trachea all the way to her stomach._

_It tasted disgusting._

_She smiled again._  
  
_Things haven’t improved for the brunette. The restlessness she felt hadn’t lessened at all, thankfully it hadn’t increased, but as it was, the feeling of loneliness in her chest was hardly bearable. As if this was the only thing to deal with, she was pretty sure the relationship with Harry and Ron would take much time to be repaired. At the moment they were exchanging forced polite words between them, it felt unnatural and awkward as if to say the wrong words could damage further the crumbling foundation of their friendship._

_Furthermore, it was their unwillingness to sympathize with her situation what was crushing her, they thought she had some fault in what was happening to her. Their stubbornness and arrogance for pretending to understand something they had no idea at all was the main reason that the brunette felt so frustrated at them._

_But despite all this, she didn’t want to lose them. People say time heals everything, maybe her supposed ‘betrayal’ with time would soon be forgotten._  
 _She did mental note to visit Neville at the hospital as soon as she could, she heard from a classmate that yesterday he finally woke up. She wanted to apologize personally, going against all her fears of being shunned by him as well._  
  
_“Don’t you think?” Dumbledore asked, displaying a small knowing smile on his lips. The brunette blinked, coming out her reflections. He lowered his head looking at her over his half-moon spectacles, the twinkle in his eye and his tiny smile told her everything._  
  
_“I’m sorry, professor, I’ve been very distracted lately.” Said girl feeling slightly embarrassed for being caught._

_“Don’t worry. Is to be expected.” Replied with a reassurance smile. The man was always so sympathetic, it was a quality Hermione admired from him. He paused for a moment, his eyes became serious and sober implying that he wished to hold the girl’s attention this time “My dear, there is something that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” He straightened his back, and recline further towards the table, putting both arms on it to support himself._

_Hermione suddenly felt that she was again in the headmaster’s office and not in a coffee shop._  
 _She gave herself a pat on the back. Her suspicions were correct, this was about something other than an intent to make her feel better._  
  
_“You know as well as I that when someone becomes infected with your current ‘issue’ the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures should be informed. 2 years ago, I omit to notify the department, to protect you against the backlash that this would entail. And trust me, that hasn’t changed. But with this new development, I think we should at least explain it to your parents.”_  
  
_That was something she didn’t expect. To tell her parents about being a werewolf? Just the very thought of telling them made her hands sweat._  
 _“Why now?” Her question coming more defensive than she intended. “Why not the first summer, after I became infected?”_  
  
_“Well, that time you didn’t present physical evidence and is not that you are presenting very much now; everything you are showing could be attributed towards lack of sleep and stress, however, you cannot use that excuse always I’m afraid.” He was right, she looked tired all the time, she started losing weight, the constant anxiety she felt in her chest was maddening._

_In Hogwarts nobody will question it, after all, next week starts the exam terms. But in summer, it’ll be harder to hide it from her parents. Not even charms could help hide her appearance all the time without taxing herself further._

_“And before this recent event, I have full trust on you that during your summer vacation you were very careful with the wolfsbane to help with your transformation, as I regularly advised you to.” His eyes never breaking contact with her own “I think it’ll be better for you and your parents that I’m present, not that I expect that something might go wrong, but in the sense to support you as the authority of the school.”_

_His arguments seemed very logical, and Hermione truly appreciated his support, Merlin knows she hasn’t been getting any recently._

_“When would you want to do it, professor?”_

_“I think now would be a good time as any. If that’s alright with you?”_

_‘Now? This is all very sudden…’_

_Seeing the hesitancy from the girl, the headmaster spoke once more “Miss Granger I know you have your doubts, and rightly so. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t be telling you this if didn’t deem it necessary.” There was a sense of urgency on his tone._

_‘Summer was 2 months away, why was so important to do it now?’ Hermione wanted to think this proposal meticulously. ‘Or maybe the professor is right, the sooner the better. Rip like a band-aid’_

_She heard again it, the squeal of a child’s laughter from the nearby table._

_She saw the expectant look from Dumbledore and impulsively relented to his proposition, anything to leave this place, she was at two more burst of childish laughter away from hexing the next kid into oblivion._

* * *

 

_They apparated on the other side of the walkway, just in front of her home._

_Hermione looked around at the neighborhood where she grew up. It was the typical suburbs of London, peaceful and quiet. There weren’t many fond memories of this place, as she never cared for it. Her most fresh memories were from the children who lived around the neighborhood and never wanted to play with her. They just bullied her for…She actually didn’t know for what exactly. For being a know-it-all, perhaps. She remembers being picked on often by the kids. Which later led her to ending up crying on her mother’s lap._

_The best memories were the ones she spent with her parents, like how her father used to tell her silly stories before bedtime and how her mom used cheer her up after a bad day in school by bringing her favorite food. And although both of them weren’t present as much as she would have liked, because they were always loaded with work, she cherished those family moments in-between._

_She loved the home, but hated the neighborhood._

_The street was empty, it appeared to be that the neighbors hadn’t come back from work. Something very unusual, it was almost 6 p.m. Her parent’s car wasn’t parked in the garage entry either._  
  
_As if Dumbledore had read her mind, he said “if they are not home, we could wait for them inside. With your permission, of course.” There it was again, the extremely tenuous urgency in his voice, covered by casualness but it didn’t sound genuine. For the first time, she felt that Dumbledore was hiding something from her._

_‘Or maybe my lack of proper sleep is having its toll on me’ she reasoned. Assuming she is seeing things that are not there._   
_She nodded, accepting the wizard’s proposal. It wouldn’t do to stay outside where someone may see them._

_As they crossed the street, she saw that the wheat colored painted house had a front garden guarded by a low white fence. Finally, her mother had sown the dahlias she wanted but always complained she never had the time to plant. Pride stirred on the girl’s chest, they were beautiful, her mother did a nice job. But again, that’s her mother she is thinking about, she never does a sloppy job. Ever. Probably his dad hammered the fence, the brunette considered, if anything could be said about how uneven it looked._  
  
_Her thoughts drifted to the reason she was here, she started to feel more anxious ‘What would they think of me once they know?’ She couldn’t bear the thought of some negative reaction coming from them._  
  
_The door was locked. With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore opened it, allowing the girl to enter first._  
  
_Hermione took small steps towards the living room; everything was very clean and in proper order, probably her parents had been hiring a cleaning lady. They really don’t have the time to be this tidy._

_Many photographs of them and her together were placed on the mantle shelf of the chimney. Many of them were from the vacation house in Ireland. They looked so happy. On the center table, there were, carefully pile up, the gardening magazines that she read to help her mother with the garden’s plans. From her position, she could see that the dinner table was full of paperwork, probably invoices, insurance papers and expenses from their practice._

_Everything looked so familiar. The presence of her parents was everywhere._

_Then, why suddenly being inside the house felt so wrong?_

_“Do think your parents would mind if we were to prepare some tea?” Asked Dumbledore, sitting on the large grey sofa in front of her. That meant she was the one to prepare the tea._

_“No, they won’t. I’ll do us some” Trying not let her uneasiness show._

_“Thank you, dear”_

_Ignoring the headmaster’s gentle smile, she headed to the kitchen. As soon as the girl was sure she was out his hearing, she cursed under her breath, put both of her hands on the kitchen worktop as it to hold herself, she took a deep breath, held it for 5 seconds and exhale. Hermione couldn’t deny it any longer, she felt a new uneasiness in her. But that might attribute it to her imprinting symptoms mixing with the concern about how her parents might react. Maybe it was this that lead her to see things where actually there wasn’t anything._

_Maybe._

_…Or not…_

_She didn’t know anymore._

_‘Am I missing something?’_

_Dispelling those thoughts for a moment and concentrating at the task at hand, the brunette opened the upper pantry, as she browsed the tea boxes she wondered if she should serve 4 cups. Her parents wouldn’t delay any longer surely. She surveyed the different types of tea, what would the headmaster like? She tried to remember the flavor of the tea she drank last week in his office, but the flavor never came._

_Instead, her uneasiness rose again. Her mind focused on the interaction between them. She replayed his facial reactions when talking about her imprinting symptoms. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the memory with utmost detail._

_And there it was, pushed by her subconscious, a scene in her mind that revealed shed light to her uneasiness: A dangerous look flashed on his eyes, only to be buried again by his sympathetic and understanding gaze._

_‘He has a secret. A plan. And it includes you’ she concluded. ‘But why does it involve my parents?’ And, where were they? The brunette knew that by 5:30 pm everyone was at home, including the rest of the people around the neighborhood. Hermione’s mind was running as fast as she could, thinking of all the possibilities. But nothing made enough sense._

_“Is there something wrong?” Asked the headmaster curiously, as he stood at the kitchen’s entry._

_Hermione almost jumped at the sudden interruption, she quickly turned around to face him. She gathered all her will to be casual as possible as she flashed a smile. “I was simply wondering what kind of the tea would like to drink, I- I think we have earl grey” she lifted the box to show “green, black and jasmine.”_

_Dumbledore stared at her flashing a sad smile; nostalgia filled his blue eyes._

_‘He knows…’_

_“I’m sorry Hermione” His face quickly took another shape, the corner of his mouth went downwards, his usual blue colored eyes turned a stormy blue. The nostalgia in his gaze became heavy and acute._  
  
_“…Professor?” She has never seen him so serious. Something felt very wrong. Fear started to spread from the pit of her stomach._  
  
_“I didn’t mean it to be this way. Never would I have imagined 2 weeks ago doing this to you, my child.” She could see how his face grew tense._

_“I knew you were very smart from the very beginning. You are extremely brilliant, my dear. And after you got infected, you became extraordinarily more so. I think you tried to hide it, but it was very evident.” A half smile, that didn’t reach his eyes appeared on his face “Suddenly you didn’t have to spend more time studying, the quantity of the books you read had double. Activities that were time-consuming you often finished them earlier than ever before. Four professors told me you broke personal records from their past students.”_

_Hermione could only try to swallow the knot that was forming on her throat. His words didn’t sound like an appraisal. Why was he telling her all this? And how just did he know all that? Has he been watching her?_

_“And now you have fallen for Bellatrix charms, I know it was not intended, but there is no going back from there. That night I’m sure Voldemort realized it as well as I, and if I know him, which I do well, you have his attention. He’ll use your predicament to his advantage. With you, he would have the 2 of brightest witches in his frontlines. And that, my dear, can make all the difference in winning the war that is coming.”_

_Hermione opened her mouth to protest but the wizard promptly rose his hand “I’m sure that you are about to say that you would never join his ranks, but my child…” His soft voice sounded all-knowing “Once you experience the feeling to be with your mate. Not even the potion would be much help, you’ll eventually turn on us. You have become a liability that I can’t afford to ignore”_

_‘A liability? Afford?’_

_But before Hermione could even digest what he was saying, the headmaster continued talking “I’m so sorry, my dear. It is all my fault. If hadn’t manipulated the hat, if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t even be involved in all this.” His sounded pained. The regret and torment reflected on his eyes._

_“What does it mean?” The girl uttered; her throat constricted._

_‘Manipulate the hat? ...Oh.’_

_“You were supposed to be sorted into Ravenclaw, your original house. But I needed someone like you to befriend Harry”_

_‘That way I can help him with his tasks, keep him alive at the very least.’ The girl completed the un-uttered words._

_Shock, anger, fear all manifested in her chest at the same time. Her cheeks were wet and her lips trembled “So, you used me? All this time I've just been a pawn in your schemes, you blo…” She stopped._

_Her hands were shaking, whether it was from fury or panic, she wasn’t sure. “Why are we here?” A painful sob escaped her lips, why was he telling her all this here? Why not somewhere else? Why now? What was the purpose?_

_Then it dawned on her._

_Her throat dried up, her heart was beating so fast and violently that she could feel the palpitations even on the tip of her fingers._

_‘Oh god, oh god, no! no! no!!’ Terror creeping in her “Dumbledore, where are my parents?” Dumbledore’s eyes filled with shame “WE ARE MY PARENTS?!” She shouted_

_“I had to… Otherwise, it wouldn’t work, I’m so sorry”_

_“Believe me, my dear, that if do this is only for the greater good.” He raised his wand and pointed at her._

_“I promise it won’t be painful”_

_He was going to kill her._

* * *

  
“You can stop telling lies Miss Granger, if Dumbledore wanted you dead, you’ll be dead and not here.” Said the man convinced of her deceitful words.

Hermione sneered, taking insult at his comment. Yet it did not escape her how the man phrased his sentence. Severus wasn’t surprised at Dumbledore’s attempts to kill the brunette.

‘Interesting.’

 “As if I could make this up. Maybe if you’d realize that I wasn’t finished, you’ll know how did I escape.”

“Enlighted me.” said skeptically

Hermione pulled out a coin from her pocket, the same one the Dark Lord gave her earlier. She held it between the tip of her fingers “Recognize this?” The coin was not ordinary coin at all, it was onyx made; red snakes moved over both sides of the coin entwining with each other. It was a variation of the death eater’s insignia.

“Is one of the Lord’s designed portkeys.”

“Indeed. 4 days before the meeting, the morning after I put on my robes, I found a coin, similar to this one here, and a note in my pocket. It read: When in mortal danger hold it in your hand for ten seconds.”

Snape stayed silent, deep in thought. Hermione observed the exact moment when the man was able to reach the answer. His lips faintly pressed into a thin line, his left eyebrows twitched a little, and his eyes opened imperceptibly bigger.

“Pettigrew.” He finally said.

“Yeah.” The girl confirmed with a smile “Later I learned that he infiltrated Hogwarts in his Animagus to make a little delivery.”

“How convenient” The man added

“For a second, I thought it was from the Order, but they never used snakes as symbolism. And, the idea that belonged to the Slytherins just sounded plain ridiculous. I was in the process of research it when everything happened” The girl explained.

“Lucky me, I kept it with me at all times.” She put the coin again on her robe’s pocket.

“What happened afterward?” Snape asked.

“Uh-uh, No. I think that’s enough answers to your question, is my turn.” The brunette decided that this was as far as she was going to go with him, he didn’t need to know his interactions with Voldemort. There was no purpose there.

“The question was how did you end up here” He explained.

“And that is the answer, the Lord rescued me with a portkey he gave me.”

“He saved your life and now you feel that you own him?” Hermione’s gaze hardened; she didn’t appreciate the accusation in his tone.

“Oh, I’m sure if I go back to Hogwarts the benevolent headmaster will receive me with open arms.” Replied sarcastically. “But no, I’m just here for the fucking kicks. And the food. Have you tried the breakfast? It’s to die for.”

What was Snape trying to get out of this question? She asked herself. If the potions master hasn’t figured it out, he will soon.

“Now is your turn to answer. Or you might as well just bloody leave” Her thumb pointed backward at the door.

“Ask.” Said the man unimpressed.

Hermione smiled. “I must say, Professor. It took a lot of effort to not be surprised by your presence earlier in the meeting. Harry and I had our suspicions that you might belong to the circle, but seeing it for the first time is something else.” The brunette rose from her seat and paced around the room with a meditative looked on her face continued.

“How is it possible that Dumbledore doesn’t know anything about your double life? Wait no, that is not my question.” The girl was in trance, her mind running faster than her mouth. “You and I know that Dumbledore has not a single hair of stupid on his head. That man seems to have eyes everywhere. The fact that he knew I would befriend Harry Potter, so I could help him. How he knew I’ve become smarter due to the lycanthropy. How he immediately hatched a plan to kill me, because that’ll be the easiest way to avoid future problems. And look at me, he turned out to be right about that last one too!” Sounding appreciative of the headmaster’s great display of wit.

Hermione held with both hands the backrest, where she was sitting earlier. Reclining her body, she faced Severus. “No, you cannot fool Dumbledore especially if you live too close to him. So how do you do it, Severus?... You see, during our brief time together I’ve reached two hypotheses…” she narrowed her eyes.

“…Three actually.”

 _‘I think I got you…’_ she hoped she was right.

 “One. You are too good at subterfuge, that you have managed to fool the man. Which I’m sure you can do, but not for so long. Two. He knows and the only reason you are breathing is that you have some use to him.” She made a dramatic pause “Hypothesis three. You are spying for him.”

The man didn’t even blink at her accusations. Hermione recognized that she’d be lying if she didn’t feel disappointed by his lack of reaction.

Snape stood up from the sofa, calmly smoothed his sleeves and pulled down with both hands the front of his robe. His stoic façade never wavered. He took two steps towards the girl, the sofa serving as a division between them.

“Granger, somehow you think you have the upper hand here. Let me give you a reality check, silly girl. Your interaction or more like the lack of it with Bellatrix tells me that she has no idea about your condition, and how much power she has over you. Should I go and let her know? I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic to hear it. You think I’m a spy, go right now and tell our lord. With what evidence, I wonder? I have been his most loyal follower for years”

Hermione snorted “You don’t have to get all defensive.” She watched him walk towards the bedroom’s door, the sound of his heavy steps muffled by the carpet. “It looks to me that we are going to become each other’s secret keepers.” She continued.

He abruptly turned around. “You are just a child playing a grown-up game, Granger. You better stop pretending that you understand and actually try to understand…” The ‘Or you’ll die’ remained un-uttered. Then, he proceeded to open the door.

“Severus!” He stopped under the frame door “You came for answers, because he didn’t tell you what he did, did he? … Don’t tell him I’m alive. I want it to be a surprise.” And with that, he closed the door. Whether he will abide her request or not, that is something that time will only tell.

The girl’s fingers were digging into the cushion of the sofa, as she replayed the professor’s last words in her mind.

“I’m not a child” She muttered.

She is been working endlessly since she changed sides. Diligently studying and practicing new spells. She single-handedly liberated 12 death eaters with no one’s help. She has proved herself to be worthy of belonging in Voldemort ranks. The Lord is satisfied with her performance so far. She has more experience, knowledge and magical abilities than anyone of her age.

 She just uncovered Severus secret, for Merlin’s sake, something that surprisingly hadn’t crossed the Dark wizard’s mind. And still, she was regarded as a bloody child.

“Damn it!” With a swift move of her wand, she exploded the sofa where the potions master sat earlier, then proceed to lift the center table and throw it at the ceiling. In no time vials and papers of not or little value to her along with the pieces of the former sofa started burning, exploding and crashing like a small tornado happening in the middle of the room. Glass ended up incrusted in the wallpaper, the carpet had burned patches everywhere, the wood and cotton lay all across the room.

Satisfied with the damage, the girl walked towards the bed; removing her clothes with every step she took. She pointed her wand at the mattress to remove any glass from it. As she put her head into the pillow, she murmured. “I just want retribution.” Her eyelids closed and the last thought in her mind, like every other night, was about her parents.

 

* * *

 

  
_She didn’t need to ask again about her parents, his face said everything she needed know. Fear filled her body like never before, not even when she faced the troll with Harry and Ron, not even when she saw the Basilisk, not when she was bitten by Remus. No, this ran deeper. Among the fear and shock something the brunette had never experience before began creeping inside her, this one extended from the pit of her stomach to all the extremities on her body swallow whatever fear she felt seconds ago._

_“You fucking bastard!” her voice filled with wrath. Fury was drowning her lungs and stomach, her chest hurt as if her ribcage was crushing her organs. She wanted to tear him apart with her bare fingers. If only she could… She will kill him._

_Out of nowhere, a whisper in her mind said ‘The coin.’_

_A frantic hand quickly went into her pocket, she held the coin for dear life. She needed only ten seconds._   
_“Listen to me! Please! Don’t this Dumbledore!... Don’t fucking do this!” Trying to stall, as she understood that trying to get through him was useless._

_“I’m truly sorry” His wrist made an elegant twist. He shot the curse._

_Hermione disappeared._

_******************************************************************************************************************_

_A loud crack resounded in what appeared to be a cabin at first sight. ‘Merlin it worked!’ realizing she apparated somewhere else._

_The brunette assimilated her surroundings as she lay on a dusty wood floor, she could see the ceiling’s trusses were filled with cobwebs and dust. It gave the impression that the place was abandoned. She tried to stand up but all of a sudden, she felt an acute pain on her right shoulder. She attempted to touch it, but just the simple effort to lift her left hand was enough to send more pain to her injury. She started to feel how her clothes felt wet by the second, she was profusely bleeding. As the adrenaline from earlier was decreasing, the pain quickly became agonizing. She opened her mouth but no sound came from it. The shock in her body couldn’t let her properly act. She took a deep breath, this time she howled in pain. It felt like someone was burning her skin, she tried to take her wand, but the minimum movement became intensely painful on her shoulder. Her head began to feel dizzy, and her sight a little blurry._

_She started to feel slightly cold…_

_Soon, she heard the sound of footsteps could be heard from the lower floor, climbing the stairs quickly approaching towards her._

_“Master! She has arrived just like you said she will.” The voice sounded familiar. She heard it before…Somewhere. She started to feel so tired. Her eyes felt very heavy._

_“Bring her.” A rough voice, a man._

_“She is hurt.” She had seen that face before, yet she couldn’t distinguish it properly, her eyes were about to close_

_“Put her on a bed.” It was the last thing she heard before she lost consciousness._

_During her short periods of consciousness, she could only feel how a man made her drink potions and water but never could distinguish the shape of his face as she quickly fell into unconsciousness again._

_********************************************************************************************************************************_

_‘Hello, ladybug’ Hermione turned her head to see her mother, she wore a beautiful white summer dress. Her smile looked so radiant, and her eyes full of love. Her beautiful brown hair rose with the wind ‘Mom!’ She ran towards her mother and hug her as tightly as she could. Her mother released a small chuckle ‘What’s gotten into you?’_

_‘I missed you so much’ said the girl as took a deep breath, her mother smelled just like she remembers it, lavender, jasmine, and a pint of rosemary. She took a deep breath again,and again something inside her telling her that perhaps she won’t be able to smell after this._   
_‘I was out just for five minutes!’ Her mother hugged her as softly and firm as she knew how to. ‘I bought this dress just now, what do you think?’ Hermione took a step back to appreciate the white dress with sunflowers embroidery. ‘You look great’ Said Hermione with a big smile. To the brunette, her mother has always been beautiful and elegant in whatever she wore._

_‘Just great?’ Another voice came from behind ‘She looks like a goddess’ Her father said as he approached towards them, sporting flannel shirt and jeans, wiggling his eyebrows separately in a silly flirty manner as he looked at his wife. That never failed to make Hermione laugh out loud. ‘Dad! I missed you so much’ Her dad was caught by surprised as Hermione threw herself in his arms. He crushed her to her chest ‘I missed you too, my little ladybug.’ The girl closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of her father._

_Her parents briefly shared a bittersweet look._

_Hermione let go of the hug as she looked at her surroundings. She instantaneously recognized the place. They were at the vacation house in Ireland; she loved this place as a child. There was an open field behind their home always fresh and vibrant even in summer, and in spring all the wildflowers covered the green grass as far as her eyes could reach. She remembers how she loved to pick the wild lilies scattered on the field with her mom, and later put them into a flower vase. Or how the three of them stargazed at night spotting stars and planets, dreaming of galaxies and universes far beyond. Or how her dad used to give piggyback rides around the field when she was a little girl. She had so many fond memories of this place. Is a shame they had sold the house._

_Her big wide smile started to slowly fade._

_They sold the house long before her acceptance letter to Hogwarts showed in the mail. She turned to face her parents, who were looking at her with warmth and love._

_‘Mom, dad why are we here?’_

_‘My sweetest girl’ Her mother got closed to her and with both hands hold the girl's face, gently removing the tears that were spilling from the girl’s eyes. ‘your father and I are so proud of you. You are the best daughter a parent could ask for, my love. Don’t ever forget that’_   
_‘We are so happy that we got to know you’ Her father said, as he rested his arm over her shoulders. Their faces displayed how proud they were of her. They looked so happy to see her._

_‘But we have to go now.’ Said her mother. Hermione’s eyes opened in fear; she could hear how her heart broke in a thousand pieces. Her throat felt so tick and painful ‘No, no, no, please no. I want to stay with you, please just let me be forever with you. Mom, dad. Please!’ She tried to move her feet, but they were so heavy. She felt rooted on the floor. She extended her arms towards her parents. ‘Please, please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone’_

_‘Never forget us’_

_*******************************************************************************************************_

_Hermione abruptly rose from the bed; she was drenched in sweat. Tears were running through her cheeks. She had a dream, yet she can barely remember what was about. She lay down again, her head was dizzy, her body ached everywhere. And the tug in the chest started again._

_‘Where am I?’ Trying to recall what happened before she passed out. Then it hit her, she quickly pulled the hem of her shirt to peek at her shoulder and examine the injury. The curse had left a reddish, large round scar all above her shoulder almost extending to the collar bone. It was ugly and probably would scar. But at least it barely hurt._

_“Bloody bastard” Hermione cursed under her breath. Fingers threaded between brown wavy hair as she held her head on her hands. The brunette couldn’t believe what had actually transpired. How could Dumbledore do this to her? Are we all expendable to that man? So many questions muddling in her head. But before she could make sense to any of it, there were more pressing matters at the moment. Like her actual location._

_She slowly stood up from the bed and walked towards the only window in the room. She saw the sun setting in on the horizon. It seemed that the house was on open space as she saw that there wasn’t anything on the visible on the terrain but only tall yellowed grass and far away mountains, as well as any sort of landmark wasn’t visible from this angle of the house. She turned around to inspect the room, everything looked old. The only three pieces of furniture were in decay, a small table on the other side of the room, the bed and a chair next to it, which she noticed her cloak was hanging from the backrest. She quickly walked towards it and looked for her wand in the robe’s pockets._

_It wasn’t there._

_‘Fuck!’ Whoever helped her had her wand. ‘Now what?’_

_Two knocks came from the door, interrupting her thoughts. Someone opened it. A very short man showed up, long frizzy hair on the sides and with a bald patch on top, his clothes tattered and dirty. And with facial features that only be described as rat-like. She recognized him instantaneously._

_The grey-haired man addressed her with an indifferent look as if he had never seen her before “Good you are awake; my master wants to see you. Don’t make him wait.” Said Pettigrew with his rat squeaky voice. Not waiting for a reply, he closed the door again._

_His master, as in Voldemort nonetheless, the girl thought. So that was the voice she heard at the beginning, he cured her. Or maybe Pettigrew did. What mattered was that they wanted her alive._

_Dumbledore was right. Voldemort appeared to be interested in her._

_She didn’t know how to feel about this, she knew that for now the only path available was moving forward._

_With no wand in hand and nowhere to run, she concluded her best bet was just to talk with the man. She opened the door and walked out. The brunette saw she was in what was apparently the top floor of the house, in some sort of spacious attic. This is the place she arrived the first time, the wood floor had a large stain of dried blood. Hermione internally winced, her wound must have been nasty._

_Walking down the stairs, the brunette arrived in a large but barely illuminated room. She looked around taking in the décor or more like the lack of it. The emerald green wallpapers were almost torn from the walls, and there wasn’t any sort of painting hanging from them. The furniture, although it didn’t look as moth-eaten like the ones in the room she slept in, still looked very decrepit; at least it was dusted the girl noticed it. A red carpet covered the wood floor, but still, with every step she took the wood would creak under her weigh. Would Voldemort live here? She wondered. There wasn’t any sounds except the fire crackling in the chimney located on the other side of the room. Two tall seats were placed in front of the fire._

_“Come closer, Hermione” A rough voice called her name. The girl stepped closer to the source of the voice. As she approached the black seats, she heard the loud hiss from a giant snake near to her feet. She took a sharp breath, fear visible in her eyes, but didn’t make any sound. “Now, Nagini. We must be polite to our guest.” Voldemort scolded the large snake. Sitting on the textured black sofa. Nagini made a quiet hiss in reply, then proceeded to curl under his master’s feet._

_“Ah Hermione, welcome. How do you feel? please have a sit” Although his smile reached his red colored eyes. It still looked more menacing than gentle, which was probably the emotion he wanted to display. She was in front of the most feared man in wizardry Britain. The who-must-not-be-named was asking to sit with him. Which was so absurd. Crazy. Insane._

_Yet very real._

_Hermione sat on the available couch in front the of the man. The fabric felt very soft and clean on her hands. “I’m fine. Thank you for saving me.” He seemed pleased. If she wanted to live, she needed whatever advantage. She knew the man was all about traditions according to Harry. Maybe she can use little knowledge she had about him._

_“You are quite welcome; I see that you are well-mannered.” He smiled again. It was unnerving._

_Then he grew serious. “You have questions, I’m sure. Go, ask”_

_“What happened?” She asked, her hand unconsciously caressed her shoulder._

_“You apparated here 4 days ago. Barely alive, you lost much blood… Dumbledore, I suppose?” Hermione only nodded. The man displayed a half-smile. “I saved you. As you must know by now, you are not very of use to me if you are dead.”_

_“Three days ago, the newspapers reported a Hogwarts student and her parents found dead at her house in muggle London. Everyone is speculating that it was the handiwork of death eaters. But you and I know that isn’t true, is it Hermione?”_

_Hermione visibly swallowed. She didn’t dream it, it was true. Her parents were dead. Her eyes fell to her lap. The girl clenched her jaw willing herself to not react. Willing to not feel anything right now, to numb herself. Because she little understood of this man was that to feel something, it’ll definitely be interpreted as weakness by the man in front of her._

_Hermione rose her eyes to look at red eyes studying her._

_The brunette let out a heavy sigh. In the appropriate time, she’ll mourn her parents. Right now, she had to move on. “Yes, it isn’t true, sir.”_

_“Does it specify the name of the student?” She asked._

_“No, but the ministry can’t have it under wraps for much longer, people bound to notice your absence. Your name will come on the front pages any day now.”_

_‘If they found three bodies who is the third one?... Probably he didn’t need one. He just needed enough time to transfigure something large enough with my appearance for the body to be processed and then buried...’_

_“Had the bodies been buried?”_

_“Yes, one day after your supposed death, in a muggle cemetery.”_

_‘Buried almost immediately, people will be none the wiser’ Hermione thought of her friends and how they will react. Will they cry? Will they miss her? Despite their earlier brushes?... And the girl found herself surprised at her actual position, right now she actually didn’t care._

_Hermione paused for a moment, making an effort to digest all this information. Another pressing question came to her mind. “How did you know?” She didn’t need to elaborate further, the tone in her voice said everything for the man to understand what was she talking about._

_“During the Tri-wizardry competition, Crouch Jr. noticed that Dumbledore went to the underground dungeons at least once a month, he informed me that he suspected that the Order was gathering there for their meetings. One night he followed him, and what he saw was you transforming into a large werewolf while Dumbledore helped you ease the transformation. Later on, he informed me of your status.”_

_“When you saw me in the atrium you just had to put two and two together.”_

_“Almost. I wasn’t entirely sure until you arrived that is.”_

_“You want me to join your ranks.” Hermione stated as she saw no more reason to avoid the main topic of the night._

_“Yes, to become a death eater. Eventually.”_

_“Dumbledore knew you were going to do this.”_

_“As I knew you’ll become a nuisance for him and his plans.” It was like they were playing chess; the board was the whole wizardry Britain and the pawns were all the people involved in the scheme. To foresee what was the next move your enemy was going to do, and move your piece before he does it. That was the key to winning. To calculate all the options available, and all the possible outcomes. For a second, she wondered what kind of chess-piece she was._

_But Voldemort was a man with a very specific taste on who were his pawns, he liked pure-blooded or half-blooded he won’t accept anything less among his ranks._

_“I’m a muggle-born. I thought you hate my kind.”_

_“I’m a rational man.” He said. “It’ll be completely waste to kill you, at least without giving you an opportunity, when you absolutely show much promise already. The same thing applies for everyone else who presents worthy abilities to join my ranks” The last past sounded very logical to her. “But don’t misinterpret my words with beliefs of equality, I do believe there is a status quo that must be kept in our society. If a muggle born show much talent like you, then they deserve to be praised and commended… But if not. They need to go to the lower ladder of society. Right before the magical beasts.” His upper lip raised slightly._

_Actually, it didn’t sound too different from the structure of the actual muggle society. If you are stupid you won’t go much far in life._

_“Dumbledore told me you’ll use Bellatrix to convince me.”_

_The man laughed, truly laugh. “Did he?” His eyes full with mirth “Now, that’s an interesting thought” muttered to himself “I want you to join me by your own volition.” He stated, “If I were to bring Bellatrix, you’ll feel that you barely have a choice.”_

_‘I think I barely have a choice now’_

_“Which that reminds me” He started to look into his dark robe, and pull out a small vial. He offered it to Hermione. “Here drink it” Hermione hesitated for few seconds to take the vial, but ultimately opted to take it. Under the logic that if Voldemort wanted to kill or harm her, she would already be._

_The man looked at the girl attentively as she drank the vial. “How do you feel?”_

_She doesn’t even know what was she supposed to feel. She waited a few seconds. Nothing._

_“Nothing…” She smiled. A feeling of relief washed over her._

_She didn’t feel the symptoms. All almost gone. They were there but in the back of her mind. She needed to concentrate to feel something. It felt less than an ant creeping on your arm._

_“Good. That way you’ll be able to properly function. Wormtail can give you later along with the recipe”_

_Hermione felt the sudden impulse to say ‘thank you’ multiple times. However, she reminded herself who this man was. And what he has done. Evidence against him was irrefutable. Join his ranks, would be going against many things she believes in. But above all there was something she would never be able to do, that is, to kill innocents._

_Hermione's eyes hardened if she were to do this there was going condition from her part. “I won’t kill innocents. I won’t be randomly killing muggles”_

_‘Wait, I’m seriously considering join him?’_

_Seconds passed. Voldemort kept holding her gaze, his face didn’t display any sort of emotion. Hermione was growing restless by the stretched silence. Probably she went too far by trying to voice her convictions. At that moment, the dark wizard rose from his seat and ordered her to follow her. They arrived at another room. Everything inside there was clean, the furniture was new and elegant. There were trinkets on the wall, mostly collections of dark magic artifacts, bookcase replete with books, there was a big hand carved desk in the corner with an equally impressive leather chair behind it. Everything appeared to be very expensive even the quills as it looked like it was from cockatrice’s feathers._

_The man walked towards a small box placed on the center table, where maps and papers lay scattered. He opened and took out a wand. Her wand. “Tell me, Hermione, if you wanted to be very famous by tomorrow what would you do?”_

_That question felt more loaded than it sounded. He wanted a satisfactory answer._

_After a few seconds, she thought she had the answer._

_Her features sober-up, the answer on the tip of her tongue held so much weight. “I’ll kill people. The more the better. It increases chances to come out on the front page of the newspaper.”_

_“Exactly. If you want an ideology to spread faster, you better make some big explosion. The papers will give all the publicity you need… I’d say we already have the attention we need.” He extended his arm and offered back her wand._

_Hermione knew that to accept it, it’ll be like shaking hands. This path will change everything as she knows it. Was she ready to accept it? She really didn’t know._

_She took it._

_There was just one last question in front of her mind._

_“What would you do to me, if I don’t want to join you in the end?” She stored her wand in her pocket._   
_“I’ll let you go” Hermione saw no sign of deceit in his features, but an air of conceit did reflect on his face. “But where would you go, I wonder?”_

_‘Nowhere’_

_Other people might think that she had a choice. She could just leave. Leave this life behind and adventure forward to uncharted territories where she could forget and move on. Settle down in a nice cottage far away from any of this. And for all one knows, after time had passed by, perhaps she could live a happy life._

_The truth is that bad things happened to good people, this time was her turn to experience the bitter taste of life and maybe to pay the highest cost of war. A war that was about to come. And if you are not careful enough, even your so-called allies will cut your throat, in the name of the greater good._

_If you happen to survive, you better adapt or you’ll perish._

_And if to ‘adapt’ it meant to change your morality and convictions. Then so be it!!_

_She had no place to go, and she didn’t need one. She wanted to stay._

_Under this reflection, a dark look manifested in the usual gentle brown eyes._

_“I want revenge” She said gazing at the pleased red eyes._

_“And you shall have it” Voldemort promised._

_“But first, you have your first task ahead. Most of my death eaters are waiting sentence to Azkaban.” He pulled out from a pile of paper a map from the ministry and the photographs of what was supposed to be the responsible Aurors that guarded the cells. “I want you to free them.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments, I'm sorry I didn't reply to all of them. I've been kinda busy. And as a token of my appreciation, uploaded two chapters in one. I really hope you like them. And if you liked or not let me know in the comments.


	5. Chapter 5

“Figures. Only Karkaroff would be willing to live around here” Bellatrix muttered, yet clear enough for the brunette to hear the woman as she observed from the house’s window.

The village where Hermione and Bellatrix arrived could only be described as the epitome of rural poverty. Or at least something very close to it. The uneven roads in the village were caked in mud due to constant raining, even the wooden frame of the windows had mud. The houses looked bearably livable from outside, the girl couldn’t imagine how must they looked from inside. Most of them had shattered windows, rotting boards, some already broken and others just barely holding itself. Some doors were hanging from its rusty hinges, probably creaking every time someone opens it.

It was early morning, yet it looked like the sun was about to set. No ray of sunlight could penetrate the thick grey clouds on the sky. This gave the village an even more depressing appearance.

The place the Dark Lord provide for them was almost as damaged as the other houses in the village, but at least didn’t seem to have any holes in the wood. 

Hermione slid one finger across the only table in the room, sensing how her finger gathered several layers of dust on the tip of it. Dirt was everywhere. She quickly cast a simple charm to clean the wooden furniture.

Hermione ignored the musings coming from the woman and tried to focus on her task. She displayed a map earlier provided by the Dark Lord and carefully observed the distribution of the homes. The first thing to do was to figure it out how to arrive at the place she needed to visit first, as there was no precise location but only a red circle that covered at least had a radius of 60 meters. Furthermore, the distribution was complete chaos there were not many streets in a straight line, everything looked more like a labyrinth.

Dolohov knew exactly where the so-called ‘spy’ was, but Hermione suspected that he wouldn’t be willing to give the information if she were to ask.

The brunette estimated that there were not more than 50 houses in the whole village, it shouldn’t be that hard to find, thought to herself.

 Bellatrix, who had been almost silent for the last 15 minutes since they had been sharing space, started to grow restless. Her usually incisive gaze set on the girl, as she took short steps walking haughtily towards the table with her wand in hand, she kept observing. The girl traced the finger on the narrow streets of the map as if to memorize the different patterns.

The older woman put her hands on the map, blocking the view from Hermione.

Hermione raised her eyes from the table, feeling annoyed by the action. “Do you have a problem?” Hermione asked.

For what little the brunette knew of the woman, Bellatrix was a proud pure-blood witch with a volatile character. It was hard to predict her moods, impossible to know what was going through her head when she was in her ‘docile’ moods. And easy to know when she was in her ‘chaotic’ ones. So far, she had successfully avoided Bellatrix as much as possible, the last time they shared room was one week ago when they were assigned this task. And no matter what her inner wolf told her or how her instincts pulled her towards the woman every time she caught a glimpse of her. Nothing good could come from Bellatrix Lestrange. To restrain herself was the best thing to do.

‘What was Voldemort thinking when he put me together with her for this mission?’

“Yes, I do” She sneered “I want to know what are you doing here, mudblood” Her piercing gaze never leaving the girl’s face.

“You can ask the lord yourself.” She responded automatically.

“I’m asking you now, filth.” Said Bellatrix obstinately.

“Why do you need to know?”

 “Because extraordinary situations, there must be an extraordinary story behind it” Bellatrix upper lip raised further “And I don’t trust you”

“None that concerns you, Lestrange. But if you so badly want to know, you can ask our lord yourself. Or is it that you are too scared to ask him?” Next thing she saw was Bellatrix flipping the table aside, the map rose on the air, slowly swaying its way to the floor. Bellatrix grabbed the hem of the girl’s robe and pushed against the wooden wall behind the brunette. Her wand digging on the brunette’s cheek. “You are very brave, girl.” Said derisively.

“From ‘mudblood’, to ‘filth’ and then to ‘girl’. Great, I’m must be going up in the world” Hermione deliberately ignored how quickly the air became stiff and intoxicating and remained calm and collected. Something that angered the dark witch more, an almost feral snarl appeared on her face.

“What are you going to do, Lestrange. Crucio me?” Hermione raised head upwards to connect her brown eyes with the angry black ones.

“There are other things I can do to you than Crucio” Red-ruby lips spread to take shape into a predatory smile, visualizing all kind of tortures she could do to the girl.  

“If you do it and I can’t properly function, I’ll tell the lord it was your fault why Karkaroff managed to escape. Again.” Hermione emphasized on the ‘again’ letting the woman know that she was aware of their past failure. Bellatrix’s snarl weakened at the girl’s threat, which it seemed to seep into the woman’s reasoning. For a few seconds, she considered her words. She pushed the brunette again into the wall just before releasing the grip from the girl’s clothes.

“I didn’t peg you for the tattletale type.” Said as she put back her wand in her holster.

First thing Hermione wanted to do was to retaliate, she wanted to reach her wand and throw the nastiest curse she could think of and send the woman into oblivion. But she could only entertain the thought for a few seconds before reality comes crashing onto her. The truth was that she couldn’t do it. She knew she wasn’t capable to defeat the woman in a duel and even if she were, she wasn’t physically capable to even dare to harm her, as her imprint, Bellatrix couldn’t be harm by her or any other. So, the only thing she could do now was to not give her the satisfaction that the hit had actually hurt her. She straightened her clothes, took out her wand and went ahead to place everything in order again as if nothing had transpired seconds ago.

The girl put her hands on the table and continued studying the map.

An expression disappointment flickered on Bellatrix’s face, she muttered something unintelligible under her breath and spared one last ugly look towards the girl before she returned to look out from the window.

Even when interrupted the brunette’s ability to focus easily returned to her, but right now the woman’s perfume lingered in Hermione’s nostrils making her lungs burn every time she took a breath. She yanked the map, rolled and throw it into her leather satchel, she needed to get out of here and put things into motion.

She put on her dark cloak and the hood to cover her head. Even though the girl had an innocuous appearance, it was better to keep a low profile by pretending to be one of the locals.

A gust of wind blew with intensity as she closed the door, brown curls whipping on her face and particles of dust entered into her eyes.

She couldn’t wait for all this to end.

The more she walked the more she found this place dreadful. Poverty and misery were the main themes in this village, they didn’t even seem to have a proper sewage network, as she caught a whiff of excrement once or twice already.  Every step she took her feet submerged in mud; the end of her cloak was moist by what she hoped was only water. She tried to blend in as much as she could by wearing dirty old clothes, just like many people around here. And by the looks of it was working, nobody batted an eye at her when she passed by the occasional inhabitant.

As she walked through the alleys, the brunette kept thinking in the earlier altercation. The way Hermione see it, Bellatrix Lestrange was a damn child. Childish and petulant. An arrogant bitch. She hated her and everything she represented. So far, she hasn’t found anything admirable in her character. Sure, she was regarded as one of the smartest witches, yet she didn’t show it.  

Now more than ever it baffled her, how could that capricious woman be her mate?

And if only the witch didn’t smell so good, she could hate her even more. Her fast mind went a little further and wondered if she could still smell her under the effects of the potion, how delicious the woman’s smell could be if she doesn’t drink the potion.

Hermione immediately shook those ideas from her mind, that kind of reckless thoughts could lead her to low her guard. With an only objective in mind, she kept walking. Though she did not hurry; her pace was naturally quick. 

She arrived at the indicated place sooner than she expected. Now she just needed to locate the exact store, a tobacco store if the information was correct.  She took small steps as she looked left to right scanning any kind of tobacco advertisement.

Just right in the corner, there was a shabby looking house had a hand-painted sign announcing ‘Fag’ at the door, the only signal that told Hermione she might be in the correct place.

“Hello?” Nobody was in the counter. “Is there anyone here?”  
“Aye, aye! I’m comin’! Ye wait for a moment!” A harsh guttural voice could be heard from the room behind the counter. Hermione could only make the sounds of drawers or maybe closet doors closing.

Hermione looked around as she waited, the interior was tidier and more illuminated.  Ironwood tables displayed the many varieties of tobacco. Every box displayed the name, the brand, and the date of when was harvested. Hermione then saw the price tags and how expensive it was, it appeared to be that aging made the difference between good and bad quality. Her eyes moved to another section; this one displayed cigars and cigarettes from other countries specifically the city or town where it came from.

‘huh, imported goods? This far away?’ The brunette saw that the man even had a sample table. His business seemed quite proliferous.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” The short man said, as he stood next to the counter. A man shorter than Hermione, he could barely reach to her shoulder. He looked in his mid-forties almost fifties. 

‘Well, people say smoking stunts your growth.’

“How can I help ye pretty lady, are lookin’ cigarettes for your boyfriend or husband?” His green eyes scan her up and down “Don’t ye get me wrong but ye don’t look the smokin’ type to me” He smiled flashing his yellow teeth.

With a half-smile, Hermione replied “I’m looking for cigarettes, the Slovakian type”

The man’s face turned serious and sober. A hand went through his short oily hair. He nodded once and made a motion to follow her behind the counter. “Yes, we have those. They are in storage.”

As they passed through the door that connected to the other room Hermione saw another type of store. Dark artifacts. This suggested that actually, the tobacco store was just a cover-up for his very illegal business. As they walked by, she saw many forbidden as equally valuable things on the shelves. Eyes of Kistrania for multiple petrifications, Nightwraiths, Elemental Stones; Hermione has only seen those stones in books, they were rare to find and illegal due to how easy are to explode. Other shelves had rare potions ingredients earth tongue,  bastion of death. Even Attar of Black Lotus, the strongest poison ever crafted. Cursed instruments of torture. Books, probably all of them for dark magic. Hermione wondered if she had enough time to peruse at least a little bit.    
  
They arrived at the end of the corridor, to what looked his place of work, a small desk and pile of papers on top of it and more paraphernalia of a typical wizard office. The man turned to face her. He looked nervous. “Alright, Karkaroff has been comin’ here for at least one time a month, in the past 6 months. The last time he came was yesterday around mid-afternoon. That’s all I know.” 

‘Well, that won’t do’

“Why is he coming here?” The brunette asked.

“He comes to buy books” the man replied.

“Mister…”

“Groscki”

“Mr. Groscki, I’m sure you can provide with more information than that.”

“That is the only thing I know.” He replied, then crossed his arms

Hermione remained calm, the tone of her voice was kind and gentle. A sweet smile on her features. “I see, I understand Mr. Groscki. But to my knowledge, the Dark Lod pay you very handsomely for any information you might provide, and right now I don’t think this is enough. And I highly advise you to think your answer this time.”

“I can’t say more; I’m already risking my neck just by talking to one of ye.”

Maybe it was the earlier fight with Bellatrix or perhaps the fact that the moist from the mud was soaking her boots and the tip of her socks, something that vexed her greatly. Whatever it was Hermione fake gentle façade fell, and her features turned into impatience quickly rising into irritation.

Hermione let her wand slide down from the sleeve to her hand. 

The man must have seen this as he suddenly was willing to talk more.

 “Look, all I know is that he lives somewhere near here. He comes once a month to buy dark magic books. I don’t know where he lives and what is he doing or planning. The first time he arrived here, he actually came to buy tobacco, but when I saw he bore the dark mark I offered the rest of my products. He doesn’t talk and I don’t ask. I swear that’s all I know”

“What are the contents of those books”

“I don’t know”

Hermione threw a cruciamen hex.

The man clutched his stomach falling on the floor. “Ye fucking bitch” he whimpered.

“That was a warning. What was on those books”

“I really don’t know.” Said through clenched teeth.

Hermione quickly cast a muffliato charm, to ensure people outside could not hear the wails of the man. “Mr. Groscki, what you just experience was a modified version of the cruciatus curse and while most of the death eaters enjoy using this curse. I’m on the more creative side, how do you feel about some Transmogrifian torture?”  

The man’s lips trembled in fear“All I- I know is that they are even forbidden for the dark arts, No- not even dark magic wielders would dare to use it. My supplier just sells it to me but I never open them, to know more will get me into trouble.” Hermione, with the wand pointing at him, gaze at the pitiful man on the floor as he kept clutching his stomach. For a few moments, she weighed whether he was telling the truth or not. 

“Please, I don’t know anymore.” He begged.

“Do you have any idea where he might be hiding?”

“Probably in the woods, he always has residuals of pine needles on his coat”

“When he comes to the store from which side he is coming from?”

“What?” sounding confused

Another hex. Same place. This time, the man howled in pain.

“Left or right?”

“Right! Right! Damn it!” Said while gasping for the air that abruptly left his lungs.

“For your good health, I hope that is true Mr. Groscki.”

Hermione's eyes wandered around the room hoping to find anything that could give any indication of the actual time. But found nothing. She bit her lip debating between walk away or perhaps…

‘It’ll only take a second’ Convincing herself. This wasn’t a chance she was willing to pass.   
  
“Mr. Groscki I’m going to take a look at your items, I’m sure you won’t mind.” The man didn’t reply, he remained on the floor in a fetal position.

Hermione walked towards the book section, for such a small place he had quite the collection, perhaps she would find the tome she had been looking for. The tip of her fingers caressed the leather books, reading their titles one by one. There were books of blood magic, a dangerous branch of dark magic and not that rewarding from what she had read from other authors. ‘The secret art to summon spirits’, ‘Dark magical beasts and its properties’, ‘How to improve imperious curse’, ‘Hexes, worse than a curse?’     

‘Ah! Here is it’ She took the large heavy tome. ‘Maledictus, and how to create them.’ This might help with her research.   

She stepped outside to the main small corridor and walked towards the man who was sitting on his desk. He seemed to have finally recovered from his ‘misfortune’.

“How much for the book?” Asked Hermione.

“50 galleons” Replied the man grumbly.

“No way, I’ll give 40 galleons and is already a good deal” The man considered it for what felt a long time. Hermione assumed that the man was thinking that either he accepts or he would just be tortured for it. Which, yes, was a possibility. She needed this book after all.

“Whatever, give them. And never come back” Hermione handed him the money and as he put the money in his pocket. A wand was already pointing at him.

“Obliviate” She made sure to completely erase their encounter.  

She smiled again. “Well, thank you so much for your help. I’m sure I’ll be coming back soon. Mr.…” The man gave her a blank stare, barely able to come out his daze he replied “Salzlinski” Displaying his yellow teeth in a slightly confused smile.

Hermione got to give it to the man, it was a smart move.

“Mr. Salzlinski, thank you.” She shrank the book and put into the satchel on her side.

“Goodbye Miss.” Said the man, fully smiling this time.

 Once she was out, she turned right following the man’s directions. Taking large steps, she headed southeast and after a few minutes, she arrived at the edge of the village. The information seemed to match with the one on her map. A forest with three black dots, each one covered a large extension of land that marked the possible whereabouts of Karkaroff. The closest mark was straight ahead, maybe one-hour walking.

This side of the village was wild and pathless, bushes and stunted trees grew in small patches of barren land. The grass was skimpy and grey. And the leaves in the branches had a gloomy green, as they were about to die.

This land seemed barely alive.

Hermione looked around and saw that a part of the land sloped away below a couple of meters from her position. Down there was a grey river barely gleaming in the very thin sunlight, a woman was washing her clothes by the shore.

Hermione got closer; the land was steep but luckily easy to walk on it.

“Good morning, madam.” Hermione cordially said. The woman stopped washing the fabric on her hands, looking at the girl suspiciously, grey eyes looking her up and down.

“Good day child, how can I help ye?” The red-haired woman gave a short smile, many front teeth lacking.

 “I was wondering if the land around has always been this…dead.”

The woman seemed to be momentarily confused over the girl’s weird question “Nay. My dah works the land, he says he had never seen a season so dried that even if it rains, the crops still die. This year’s season is crazy If ye ask me.”

“Crazy how?” Sounding intrigued.

The woman shrugged “Last year everything was green and pretty. The crops were healthy, we got our bellies full before going to sleep. This year everything seems to die for no reason.” 

“I see, thank you” The woman made an acknowledgment noise and went back to washing her clothes.

With that new piece of information, Hermione felt the need to investigate further and the best way to do it was going into the forest. But going alone wouldn’t be wise, she considered. On the other hand, she could only take a little peek before going back. After all, the less time she has to spend with Bellatrix until nighttime the better.

‘Just a little bit’ she convinced herself.

She headed towards what marked the beginning of the forest. The trees were tall, with large and thick branches, denying the little bit of daylight reached the soil. This place was darker than the house she is staying in with Bellatrix. She kept walking in a straight line. With her wand in hand hoping to survey for any hint of charms or any sort of magic, anything that could give her a clue. Her feet submerged in over the bed of leaves, branches crushing beneath her boots; the brunette sensed that every step she took seemed to resonate louder.

As she kept moving forward, she started to notice a pattern, some trees were almost fully decrepit, while others seemed on the process of dying. And a few more were still full of life. Hermione thought of any sort a natural phenomenon that could cause this. There were no traces of intentional destruction or contamination, and if they happen to contaminated what was the purpose anyway? The most obvious conclusion would be that is was the magical kind. But the question came again, what was the intention? And what kind of spell could do that?

She’ll figure it out soon enough. The girl pointed her wand a recited the spell for dispelling “Finite Incantatem.” Nothing. Perhaps she could be able to return it to its original form then “Reverte.” Nothing again. So that meant that it wasn’t directly affected. The trees weren’t the targets perhaps, but collateral damage. “Surgito” not a single change. 

The brunette stayed there, motionless, weighing all the reasons she could of think of for this to happen. She was sure there was magic in play around here, and where magic was present it could probably mean that Karkaroff was near. After all, she was getting closer to the first mark.

 Hermione walked, and watched, and listened, waiting for the lead that would point her in the right direction.  

The brunette listened and all she heard was nothing. Silence. There was no sound around her but only the noise of her breathing and her steps. No birds, no crickets, no cicadas… Impossible not to have the drilling noise of the cicadas during summer!

She didn’t know what make of this, only that it rubbed her the wrong way. This wasn’t normal. But not knowing what else to do, she decided it was time to leave this place. She looked around to make sure that nobody could be watching.

She apparated to the house.

A loud crack came from the main room of the house. Bellatrix, who was sitting on the chair with her feet on the table, saw how the girl tumbled slightly sideways after she fully reappeared.

Hermione clearly heard the snicker behind her, she turned around to look at the woman but she wasn’t even looking her way, she was playing with a knife between her fingers. 

“Well, what did you learn?” Bellatrix asked, her eyes never straying from the knife as it fluidly moved between her fingers. “Not much as I would like” Hermione replied.

“You are useless, then.” Bellatrix mocked her.

Hermione ignored the barb “The spy in this town said that Karkaroff goes to his establishment once a month for the past 6 months. He buys books, the man couldn’t say exactly the type of-”

“Oh yes, because he is going to tell you willingly.”

“No, he wasn’t willing.” Said in a clipped tone.  

“So you tortured him? With what? Your face?” Bellatrix laughed.

“A hex”

“A hex” Bellatrix mimicked in a childish voice. She stopped playing with her knife to gaze intently at the girl “I would have thrown Crucio at him”

She removed her mud-stained cloak and throw it on the chair placed at the corner. “I wanted him able to talk, not to end up like the Longbottoms.” Bellatrix only scoffed at her comment.

“Well, maybe next time take a Polyjuice potion and come with me. Then you can interrogate him to your heart’s content” The girl said casually.

“You don’t know do you, mudblood?” Bellatrix raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow. At Hermione’s blank look, she cocked her head, she rose from her chair and pointed at the window “Look outside and tell me what do you see?”

Maybe it was Bellatrix sudden sober tone or perhaps her own curiosity what made her entertain the woman’s request and walked towards the window to observe.

“I see… people?” Said the girl.

“Look again” Hermione felt the witch presence close behind her, her smell invading the girl’s nostrils once again. She started to take shallow breaths and focused on whatever the woman wanted her to see. Men and women walked outside some were rushing towards their destination while others had a slower pace on their steps. Her eyes moved from one side to another, scanning everything that what visible from her position. Someone opened the door from the house in front of them; a man came out seemed to be on his sixties. As he closed the rotten door of his house, his eyes connected with hers. An uneasiness crept upon the brunette. The man smiled; the tip of his fingers pinched the front of the beret on his head tilting slightly as a form of greeting. It was then when she saw it. From his sleeve peek out the end of a wand.

“Some of the people living here are wanted wizards by the Ministry, Karkaroff is not the only one in hiding” Bellatrix reclined her body on the wall beside the window, black eyes glared at her. “Seeing one unknown face is bad enough, but two together. Begs for trouble.” The woman elaborated.  

Understanding dawned on the girl’s face “They are watching us…”

“No. They are watching _you_ , mudblood” Red lips formed a cruel smile. “That’s the reason you came to this little field trip. They don’t know who you are and they don’t know what you want. But if they think you are trouble, they will do anything to stop whatever may disturb their little haven here.”

The brunette berated at herself, how could she have missed this? She could only that nothing she has done so far had given away her intentions.

Another thought took shape in the girl’s mind, she frowned and stared at the woman hard. “You knew, and you didn’t care to tell me”

Bellatrix’s smile went wider “And miss the opportunity of you getting caught? I don’t think so.”  dark shadowy curls bounced at the pace of woman’s steps. She lowered to the chair again and continued playing with her knife.

Before impotent anger overtook her mind, Hermione shook her head dispelling any desires to curse the woman. She saw that there was no use to engage her further. The why’s and the how’s didn’t matter as the dark witch would only extend the conversation for her own amusement.

“Aw, don’t give me that look. Consider it a test. One that you failed by the way.” 

The brunette gave one last spiteful look at the death eater before turning around and move to another area of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and if you like it or dislike it, let me know in the comments.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say that I have found new respect and admiration towards any author around here, especially to all those people who write lengthy stories. Because the writing thing, is F* hard. Anyway, enjoy!!

_“…While popular belief in western countries insist that Maledictuses are somehow related to Animagus or Metamorphmagi. A new theory has come to life according to recent research by Qiang XingNa, head professor of Asian History of the Enchantry and Thaumaturgy School. Professor Qiang has stated the creature Nüwa c. 405- Unknown, a woman half snake half human from the Zhou Dynasty, might be the first form of Maledictus just before the curse itself was perfected or the actual people who suffer from the curse might be an actual descendant of Nüwa herself.  During the Zhou all through earlier years of Tang Dynasty (Just before the Secrecy of Magic law was applied by the Ministry in 630 B.C ) Nüwa was regarded by the muggles as the Snake Goddess, a highly revered one too. She was called ‘The one that repaired the heavens’ according to muggle records. Magical records of Nüwa showed she was the daughter of a very influential wizard who governed large parts in the capital of Chang An. Educated by the best tutors available she grew up to be one of the most talented witches of the era…”_

Hermione felt a small push on her head, similar to when someone softly knocks their knuckles on wood. She rolled her eyes. Then took a deep breath just before fully returning to her book.     
  
_“…Promised to wealthy landowner’s son. Nüwa rebelled against his father’s decision, for she had already a lover: Her brother, Fuxi. However, their forbidden love didn’t last long, a servant allegedly saw them copulating one night. Gossip spread quickly among the servants, in no time arrived at the Lord’s ears. Enraged by the disgraceful act of his children, he exiled them from the country, not before cursing his own daughter. Although there is no record of what specific spell Lord Yu used, he was widely known for being a blood magic practitioner. The curse intention was that if Fuxi and Nüwa were to procreate only snakes would come out of her. But what the father didn’t expect was that by casting the curse, Nüwa would take the shape of a snake as well, little is known of what follows after their banishment…”_

By now, her nails were scratching the cover of the book. “What do you want?!” Hermione asked, exasperation in her voice. She turned to look at the culprit, who was on the other side of the room innocently balancing on the chair. 

“What are you talking about, mudblood?” Replied Bellatrix, cleaning the invisible dirt under her nails.

“Of you using legilimency on me.”

The woman snorted at the tired voice of the little witch. “Can you blame? You are too easy”

The brunette gave her one last look, deciding that Bellatrix won’t get a reaction out her. She made a mistake earlier in the morning, she won’t make it again. Yet so far, Bellatrix has been in an aggravating mood; the brunette could hold so much patience. Hermione assumed that the only reason Bellatrix restrained herself to further her aggression was because of their current objective. Otherwise, the woman would go as far as to physically injure her.

In another time, she’ll probably be terrified of just sharing the same space with Lord Voldemort’s Lieutenant. After all, the infamous which was even feared among her peers. However, at the present moment, she wasn’t scared. None at all. And it may be, Hermione reflected, that the imprint has much to influence in her actual feelings towards the woman. She found the witch unlikable in too many levels, nasty, vexing, childish even bloodthirsty if papers reflected any truth of her history… But not scary. Never scary.

Nevertheless, there was something else in the back of her mind. An explanation for her fearlessness completely unrelated to the imprint. Something that she couldn’t or perhaps didn’t want to pinpoint exactly what it was. Neither to understand. Her intuition told her that to analyze it, might be dangerous. So, she settled for the most obvious reason: ‘I’m a Gryffindor, bravery is our thing.’ Except that she wasn’t a Gryffindor… She was a Ravenclaw.

The girl dispelled those thoughts from her head. Coming out her daze, she saw the book on her lap remained open, her eyes searched for the last paragraph she read earlier.

With amusement still evident on her face, the dark witch stretched her numbed limbs and yawned; boredom catching up to her again. She has been sitting for hours, doing basically nothing but just waiting for nighttime. Outside the pitter patter of the rain and distant rumble of thunders were the only sounds traveling in the room, along with the occasional huff and sigh from the girl.

A pale hand with slim fingers extended on the table. Four fingers commenced drumming on the hardwood. Again, and again. The ‘tap’ of her long nails made the sound louder and acute. Again. She applied more force. Again. Fingers falling in perfect sequence. Faster.  

She kept going.

Nothing.

Not even a twitch on the girl’s face.

Oh, well.

Bellatrix rose from her chair; the usually imperceptible rasping sound of her black leather corset could be clearly heard across the room. The wood that cracked and groaned under her heels echoed in the room. With hands behind her back, she advanced in slow steps towards the window.

The streets were empty by now due to the storm, which has been pouring down in the last 2 hours. Night time was one hour away at most. If this were to continue, long distance visibility would be a problem in their search. Yet that didn’t stop Bellatrix to experience the rising feeling of anticipation settling in her stomach, her hands itched and long fingers stretched. She couldn’t wait to get out and put her hands on Karkaroff, the damn traitor. Oh, but first she’ll have his fun with him, she decided. Her eyes fixed on one point in space, as she started to visualize what she’ll do when she gets her hands on him. First, she will start with a slashing hex, she’ll cut the tip of his fingers and watch how he starts to lose blood by the seconds while his body twists in the pain. And when he begs for mercy, she’ll give him none. She’ll throw her favorite curse. Cruciatus. She’ll enjoy watching him cry in pain. Or perhaps she could start by ripping his nails and then the fingers. Rip the nails, burn the fingers and then cut them. Yes!

The loud flutter of a single page-turning brought her back to reality. Blinking away her plans, black eyes set on the culprit.   

The girl, being none the wiser, kept reading her book. From this angle she could not see her face, brown wavy hair fell from both sides of her head, with one finger she smoothly traced the lines on the book, deep in concentration. It would be a shame if someone were to interrupt her little bubble. Bellatrix approached closer.  

“What are you reading?” She finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.   

“None of your business.” Brown eyes never straying from the pages.

With a non-verbal Accio, the dark witch caught the book in her hand, taking Hermione by surprise. “I don’t like your tone, little mudblood” Her nose sticking up in the air, voice full of warning.  

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose “Again with the threats?” She had been trying to stay as far as she could from Bellatrix. The scent from the woman was getting if only a little stronger, yet it was still tolerable. That could only mean that the potion was losing its effects, soon she’ll have to take one more dose. Preferably far from the prying black eyes, Hermione thought. The brunette turned to fully face at the black-haired woman. Which by now, was perusing the pages of the book. “If you really must know, I’m learning about Maledictuses” The dark witch closed the book and read the title. Bellatrix’s sight connected with the brunette and studied her with a look that dripped with pure suspicion.

“Why? Are you planning to curse someone?... Maybe little ol’ me?” Asked sweetly.

A humorless chuckle escaped the girl’s lips “You realize that to curse someone is needed to brew different potions, right?”

“Of course, I know.” As it the mere question offended her. “But again, who are you planning to curse”

“I’m not planning anything… I just want to know, stuff” Shoulders shrugged, trying to imply that it was more of an entertainment than anything else.

“Stuff?” Her voice was full of skepticism. “Maleficarum from elven tongue: One who is most flagitious. Maledictuses are the consequences of Maleficarum practices, a very gruesome form of blood magic. Requires months to prepare the spell, if you are not a blood magic wielder and ingredients that are almost impossible to find in western terrain. Not to mention the price you have to pay to curse your victim is very high, even deathly. There are scarcely records of people claiming to survive the price of casting. But I’m sure you already did know all this.” Getting closer to the girl’s face Bellatrix spoke to her like she was talking to a little girl, to Hermione’s chagrin. “And that is why I don’t believe you, filth. I can see when someone is lying and your pants are so on fire.”

No giving chance to reply, the dark with continued “So, who are you planning to curse? your boyfriend Potter? Is that somehow related to the reason why you faked your death?” She cocked her head, dark black curls cascading to her side, revealing a long elegant neck, with an ugly 93 tattoo under her ear that Hermione hadn’t seen before.

“It puzzles you does it?” A hint of amazement laced in the accusative words. What a stubborn woman, Hermione thought. “You are frustrated because you don’t know what I’m doing here. Do you think that by learning why I’m reading this, will give you a clue of why I’m here?”

“If I can’t torture you for it…” Replied with a shrug.   

Under other circumstances, Hermione would laugh out loud at the fractious tone of the older woman, but today she just felt tired at her petulant antics “You believe you can detect lies, how about this one. I don’t plan to cast maledictus on someone.”

Black eyes running through her face, looking for any sign of deception. She squinted at the girl but said nothing.

“Can I have the book back?” She extended her arm.

 “Maybe later.” She put it on the table, planting her hand on the cover. “You still haven’t told me what else you found in your earlier expedition”

“If you hadn’t interrupted me earlier, you would have known by now”

“I’m all ears right now”

Hermione easily relented, because what else could she do? “The informant sold books to Karkaroff…According to him, he has never read them. But mentioned that this kind of material scared even the most seasoned dark wizards. Do you have any idea what that could be?”

“I might have some ideas”

 Hermione waited a few seconds for her to elaborate. “Are you going to share?”

Bellatrix snorted “No.” She made a motion with her hand, telling the girl to continue.

“After that, I headed southeast and enter to the forest bordering with this place, simply put it looked like it was dying”  

“I saw…I know it sounds silly but It looked like someone sucked the life out of them. Patches of land were barren, while others were alive. And no, before you ask, I did all the possible charms and spells that might help trace any sort of magical residue. I found nothing. Something else that seemed highly abnormal is the fact that there was no sound of life.”  Bellatrix started to pace around the room. Her face didn’t show any emotion. Whether she was listening to her or not, Hermione couldn’t tell.

“I checked in the map as well that my actual position matched with one of the possible locations of Karkaroff” Hermione licked her lips “Do you think-”

A hard knock came from the front door startling the brunette. Hermione’s eyes opened in surprise. She quickly stood up from her chair; her wand instantly came into her hand. They weren’t expecting anybody, that’s for sure. Bellatrix, who seemed to be running a thousand thoughts in her mind at the same time, didn’t react at all. Instead, she just made a motion for the girl to stay silent. The woman cast a non-verbal spell, for what Hermione guessed by the movement of her wrist was a Muffliato charm. Then proceeded to carefully approach the wooded door placing herself next to it. With a soft move of her head told the brunette to open it.

With her arm behind her back, Hermione confidently walked towards the iron handle, gave one last look at Bellatrix and opened the door.

A man dressed in wizard clothes appeared in front of her. Hermione recognized him immediately, he was the man she saw earlier, the one from the house across the street. His dirty old clothes left behind, this time the wizard was well dressed. The clothes looked expensive; definitely hand tailored. The girl noticed that he carried a healthy color on his face, very unlike the many villagers she saw on the street. The stranger didn’t seem to be older than 50 years old at most.   

“Goodnight, Miss.” A polite smile formed on his lips. His voice was soft and cultured, hardly a tilt in his words.  “This weather is quite dreadful, isn’t it?” Tilting his head to the side, pointing at the pouring rain. The smile never leaving his lips, but his eyes flashed a hint of apprehension if only a little. “Do you think we can talk inside?”

The brunette understood clearly it wasn’t a request. She didn’t like this, at all.

She returned the polite smile “It is always a pleasure to meet someone of our kind, please do come in” hiding her weapon under her arm, Hermione stepped further inside allowing the man to follow her. The door immediately closed behind him.

“I must apologize, but I have no tea or coffee to offer you, Mr…” Hermione smiled at the man. Trying to concentrate on his face and not in the woman stalking behind him.

“Mr. H, and that’s fine, Miss.”

_‘Mr. H?... What silly way to remain anonymous’_

 “I won’t be much longer here to require sustenance.” His eyes scanned the sight in front of him “I see you still have to fully furnish your ho-”

As Bellatrix trusted her wand into the back of the wizard’s head, for a moment Hermione pitied the man, whoever he was.

 “Move a muscle and you die” her voice dangerously low. “Your wand, NOW!” she demanded. The brunette took three steps behind and rose her wand too. She saw a flicker of fear on the man’s features, just before he fully recovered his composure. He carefully reached for his wand from inside the pants pocket. Bellatrix quickly snatched from his fingers. “On your knees!” She pushed her wand further onto him.      

“Well misses, I believe we find ourselves in quite a pickle” The man sounded confident as he kneeled. “As it happens, there are men, well, wizards are outside waiting for me, if I don’t get out after some time. They’ll come in looking for me.” He explained

The dark witch cackled. “So, before you came here, you call for reinforcements? Are you so afraid of a little girl?”

Hermione saw how his features became slightly confused at the mocking sound of the witch voice. Apparently, he was expecting a very different reaction. The wizard turned his body to catch a glimpse of the woman who was stabbing the wand at him. “Bellatrix Lestrange” Although his features remained impassive; his voice betrayed him. Surprise and fear vibrated from his throat.

“Glad to hear my reputation precedes me” Red lips spread into a wide smile, enjoying the effects of her presence. “Voldemort’s first lieutenant, at no-one’s orders” She did a mocking bow.  

The man turned to face Hermione “And who are you, miss?”

“My apprentice.” Answered Bellatrix while looking at the brunette with a warning look, giving no chance at the girl to open her mouth.

“I just came from the tobacco store; the owner is a good friend of mine. I’m sure you’ve met him, miss.” His eyes hardened at Hermione “I just came from helped him to cure some nasty scars on his chest and stomach. He says he doesn’t recall what happened to him. He merely remembers a pretty brunette with a kind smile, his words not mine, with a book in hand that apparently she bought there, leaving his store.” His eyes fixed at the dark leather book on the table, then turning to an unfazed Bellatrix “Your apprentice tortured one of ours”  

“And you came here to scold me or perhaps looking retribution, is that it?” Asked Hermione.

The wizard swallowed “I came to ask you what is your business here.”

Bellatrix chuckled at his words. “I don’t think you are in a position to ask anything.”

“We may be criminals but we have a protected community here. You just tortured a man for what? Nothing!”

_‘Criminal?’_ This man didn’t look like one. Hermione carefully assessed him, he was well educated, very well groomed, his teeth were white and in perfect condition considering his age and where he lives. And above all that, he seemed none violent at all. Yet, he called himself a criminal.

_‘Ah! financial criminal then.’_

“Your friend and I had a business deal. He didn’t want to fulfill the end of his bargain; I had to throw some persuasion.” The brunette calmly explained.

This didn’t make sense, Hermione thought. Assuming her assessment is right. Why would a none violent man come here to ask questions? Was he the leader? No, that couldn’t be right. If what the wizard said is true and there are people outside, the leader must be the one who sent him.

“Are you going to make us leave?” Bellatrix asked, faking a sad voice.

“I don’t think even you, Lestrange, can take so many wizards at once”

The moment his words left his lips, a set of emotions appeared in Bellatrix from a half-formed snarl on her face to a sadistic smile, her eyes sparkle with malicious glee. Hermione realized he made a huge mistake. She understood Bellatrix will take it as a challenge.

_‘Uh-oh’_

“Then I better start with you!” The dark witch kicked his back with her feet, digging the sharpened heel on his back. The man fell on the floor “Crucio!”

A deafening cry of pain came next, his nails scratched the wood under his hands. The veins of his neck and face became more and more visible. He rolled in a fetal position, his feet kicking at nothing. As if moving would somehow lessen the excruciating pain coursing through his body. His body contorted and convulsed in such an inhuman way.

This was the first time Hermione saw Bellatrix torturing someone, she found it intimidating. She held the Cruciatus curse effortlessly like it didn’t drain her strength at all. She remembered the first she tried to cast it, _‘You have to mean it’_ Voldemort told her. _‘You need to feel the hate inside you, the desire to cause pain. For them to hurt and suffer’_ That time, it required so much magic from her to even cast it, even much more to hold it for less than 10 seconds. And Bellatrix can hold it much longer than she probably would ever be able to, Yes, intimidating was the word, because without a single bead of sweat on her forehead nor any sort of agitation she wielded the spell so naturally.

As Hermione saw it, Cruciatus and Patronus spell were two different sides of the same coin. They have the same principles but completely different outcomes.  

 “Who do think you are?! You damn filth!” Even though the cruel smile faded but the glee in her eyes never faltered on the dark witch features. She was enjoying this too much. “Crucio!” She didn’t last even 10 seconds before casting the curse again.

Hermione kept watching, her eyes never leaving the wailing sack of flesh convulsing on the floor. It was moments like this, where she could attest to herself that the numbness in her body, proved something fundamentally rooted in her being broke the day Dumbledore betrayed her. She felt nothing at the scene. Nor pleasure neither disgust, just complete indifference at the suffering of a seemingly innocent man.

_‘Nobody is innocent’_ chastise herself.

This man, Hermione observed, seemed too soft to be here, by criminal standards at least. He said he had other people waiting outside, people like him and perhaps more dangerous, if that’s true, they’ll soon come for him and then what will happen? Bellatrix was making things worse by letting her ill-temper take control of her.  

_‘Wait, these people are watchful of who gets in or out’_ The girl opened her eyes in realization

“Bellatrix, wait!” Hermione said, but the woman was lost in her own world. Hermione tried again to call her attention. “Bellatrix STOP!!”

The brunette approached the black-haired witch. The woman’s eyes never leaving the whimpering man, not acknowledging the upcoming presence. The brunette didn’t think twice before extending her arm to reach Bellatrix’s hand, just as soon as she touched the pale skin with her fingers, a jolt of energy coursed across all her body. It felt like static running all through her arm till the fingers of her feet, a buzz that was pleasurable and terrifying at the same time. Hermione knew this could happen, she read it time ago. But the description itself didn’t hold a candle to the actual experience. Her initial reaction was to revel in the sensation, to let herself be overwhelmed by this hum in her body. Everything in her body screamed her for it.

_‘No. Never!’_

As soon as her brain fully caught up, she managed to push down the witch’s wand right before she removed her hand severing the invasive presence in her body.

Hermione didn’t have time to decipher Bellatrix’s first reaction before a furious look took shape in her eyes. She definitely got her attention.

“WHAT?! MUDBLOOD?! WHAT?!”

Hermione schooled her feelings over what just happened, remaining unfazed by the witch’s sudden outburst. “He knows what happens in this town.” She explained.

Understanding instantaneously dawned on the older witch’s face. She turned her head towards the whimpering man on the floor. Then reached down for him and took a fist of his hair yanking it for him to face her. “Well, well, we might need you alive after all!” She said it as if the man has won some sort of reward.

“We are looking for a man, white-haired, very tall. He likes wearing furs. Blue eyed. Always looks in a bad mood. Rings a bell?” Bellatrix spoke.

“What do you want with him” the man murmured, barely able to articulate.

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh. This old man was damn stupid or he is buying time “Are you really willing to risk torture again by asking stupid questions? Just bloody answer it”

He paused for a few seconds. “I have rarely seen him; I don’t know where he lives”

Hermione took out the map and unrolled it in front of him, while Bellatrix violently grabbed his head with both hands and force him to look at it. 

“Take a good guess” Said Bellatrix next to his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it, let me know in the commments!! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione reclined her body on the wall and observed the man. Mr. H, smiled at Bellatrix, from time to time he nodded in understanding as the older woman gave him precise instructions of how to act and what to say. He seemed so relaxed and well adjusted, his hair wasn’t messy anymore and his clothes were clean. Just like when he arrived. The only give away of their earlier altercation was the involuntary twitching of his fingers and probably the scars on his body. But no one will see that till much later… Perhaps.  He nodded once more right after Bellatrix gave him two small slaps on his left cheek, then proceeded to leave the house.

“How long will it last?” Hermione asked while she nibbled a piece of dried meat she had been keeping in her satchel. Bellatrix seemed in a better mood, relaxed.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Bellatrix responded indifferently. “Why? Is the baby mudblood scared?” She never wasted a chance to taunt the girl.

“Why didn’t you just obliviate him?” The girl asked, still disconcerted to see the dark witch was willing to let the man go.  

Bellatrix made a deriding sound and looked her up and down in a depreciating manner.  “I know your brain is really itsy-bitsy small to understand simple things, but do you really have to ask?”

The answer rapidly coming to her mind _‘Because if there are people waiting for him, they’ll know if he had been obliviated’_ Hermione wanted to kick herself for not thinking before asking.   

For someone who showed to be very skeptical of the man’s threat and easily to be overtaken by her murderous impulses, Bellatrix was still able to get the best possible outcome out her little shitshow. And not only that, but she had her fun along the way.

She placed the entire piece of meat in her mouth, tasting the sweetened meat on her palate. _‘Probably Bellatrix never intended to kill the man.’_ If that were to be true, Bellatrix was more cunning than she expected. Hermione truly anticipated being surrounded by wanted criminals right now, considering how quickly things went south a minutes ago. This, Bellatrix taking the ‘stealthy’ route, was something she didn’t foresee.  

“No, I guess not.” She crossed her arms, feeling very defensive. To what Bellatrix gave a smug look. Hermione internally rolled her eyes.

At least they got the information out of the wizard’s mouth, Hermione thought. At this point they couldn’t afford to attract more unnecessary attention. Sfter all, there was the probability that another confrontation could tip off Karkaroff. Besides that, Hermione didn’t want to, if it came to it, fight her way towards the man when Bellatrix and she only needed to kill just one target. She took a glance at the window, it appeared to be the last rays of light were rapidly dimming in the sky, nightfall was coming very soon.

They have to start their search under the mantle of the night and not earlier; the girl could only hope that tonight they will finish the job as she could not stand to be here much longer. Although she been gradually numbing herself to Bellatrix’s barbs, she needed to be alone, too much Bellatrix’s company could be pernicious for her physical and mental health. Quite literally.

“We need to leave as soon as its fully dark outside” Bellatrix stating the obvious, hastily putting on her dark cloak. She turned her back at the girl “Guard the door. Kill everyone who dares to cross it. Or not, depends on you.”

“Wait, what?!” Hermione asked, suddenly aware of the woman’s intentions. “Where are you going?”   

“To get me some transportation.” Didn’t bother to look at the girl before she apparated.

Where? Only Merlin knows.

“Bloody hell…” Muttered to herself. “Damn woman…”

Her shoulders sagged, accumulated tension in her shoulders slowly fading. At least now that she was alone there was no need to keep with the stoical facade. She released the exhausted groan she had been holding since morning, tired of taking shallow breaths every time the woman got close to her or the simple fact that sometimes she felt like she was walking on eggshells. _‘You’ll never know when she will explode’_  

The girl reached for her satchel and roamed for one of the many potions she always keeps wherever she goes. She grabbed the small blue vial, it almost fitted on the palm of her hand. She made a mental note to brew a batch more once she went back to the mansion.

Hermione opened the small flask and drank it all in one go, feeling the sour taste running through her throat and then travel down the esophagus. She released a happy sigh as soon as she felt the effects. The sensation felt like a welcome and refreshing balm to her chest and mind. Although it didn’t feel as good as touching the woman, it felt great just to numb the constant ‘tug’ in her chest and the unbearable yearning made her feel more like herself. And that’s all she only wants.

Hermione knew from the very beginning that sooner or later she had to interact with Bellatrix, hence she prepared mentally for it. Read and studied what little information she could find about her dilemma. But in the end, she realized that in practice it didn’t help her much.

The girl moved around the room aimlessly as her inner worries started to branch out. Nothing the girl had read so far prepared her for this experience, she sensed the imprinting was getting of hand. First, it was that woman’s smell and now touching her triggered a reaction, maybe she should make the potion stronger? or drink a higher dose? Could that help her? She didn’t know. And what if the potion only lessens her physical symptoms but not these new ones? then this opened a new set of troubles. It was imperative to avoid any contact with the woman. No matter how good she felt, how complete she felt for that fraction of a second. She needed to always have _herself_ under control.

She could only hope that Bellatrix didn’t feel anything from the experience. She clenched her jaw, contemplating the possible outcomes if the death-eater did feel something and she found herself interested in the phenomenon. For Merlin, she could not imagine what the witch could do with that information. And if Bellatrix were to confront her about it what would she say? If she were to attempt ignorance, Bellatrix would see through her; lying about it will bring her more problems. But then, what could she say? The truth? Clearly, it wasn’t an option. It’ll be rendering her will at the whims of a child.  The mere thought made her stomach churn.

A sour taste manifested on the girl's mouth as she didn’t know to what extent Bellatrix could have power over her, is not like even she had given too much thought about the possibilities. But something was certain, it wouldn’t be good according to the girl.    

And what if Snape were to tell her? She considered for the next moments. Quickly dismissing the idea, she concluded that the professor had much more to lose than her. He might not recognize it, but the way she saw it, she had more power over him, that he over her. Even if she couldn’t prove his lies like he sharply stated, she was capable at least to put the idea on Voldemort’s mind. Shaking his doubts about his follower’s loyalty will be enough damage.

No matter what, she totally needed to do a great deal of thinking after all this was said and done.

The girl’s eyes unlocked from the invisible point in the wall and turned to the window; it was fully dark by now.

_‘Where the hell is that woman?’_ She started to get anxious.

What was she going to do if the Imperius curse doesn’t last long and the man comes back with reinforcements? There is no way she could take all of them, much less without attracting the Muggle’s attention and by consequence the Auror’s attention.

Hermione took a sharp breath; she felt her stomach dropped to the floor. One specific idea made its presence in her mind.

She wondered it Bellatrix would intentionally remove her spell and then lead them towards Hermione’s position. Just to spite her. Or to find some sort of sick amusement. It sounded more logical by the second.

What were the chances that could happen?

_‘That fucking bitch’_ A deep scowl formed on her face. She was going to kill her, damning the imprint and everything else. Her brain was running at full speed on all the things she’ll do to the witch. She will burn her to a crisp and then she’ll use her ashes as…

Bellatrix reappeared a moment later with a soft ‘pop’ consequence of her apparition spell. A clear statement of Bellatrix magical abilities, and a remainder for Hermione to work out on her apparition, the noise she made every time probably could be heard by everyone in the vicinity.  

Bellatrix approached at the girl, while she carried two brooms with her; she must have seen something on the girl’s face as she openly laughed at her “You thought I’ve left you?” Not fully knowing that she had guessed correctly “Not going to lie. It crossed my mind”

Being caught off guard, Hermione tried to recover by sounding disinterested “And why didn’t you?”

She shrugged “Because I think you’ll do good as a human shield; in case I need one.” She replied with mirth in her voice.

The girl just kept looking at her, afraid that if she rolled her eyes one more time it’ll probably pop out of their sockets.

Bellatrix pushed one broom onto the girl’s chest. Hermione gave her an incredulous look.

“You know how to fly do you?” A dark slim eyebrow rose inquisitively.

 “O-of course.” Sounding not so confident. The truth was, that she hated flying because she wasn’t so good at it. Something that the woman in front her, didn’t need to know.

“Oh, what fun…” The woman drawled as she opened the main door.

“Where did you get the brooms?” The girl asked, risking an insulting remark.

“We always have hidden stashes close to the safe houses.” Said tossing her dark curls over her shoulder. “Move it mudblood, there is no time.”

Outside the streets were empty, not a soul in sight. Small glimpses of light filtered from the nearby houses through the cracks and small divisions of the windows and rotten wood. Smoke came out from some chimneys; the temperature had dropped considerably. Although the rain had lessened its intensity and the visibility had improved, it will still prove to be an obstacle for their search. Hermione looked around one last time just before taking off, to be sure nobody was watching them.  

They levitated in the air; rising themselves among the houses. Bellatrix didn’t wait for Hermione as she accelerated ahead leaving the inexperienced girl behind. The girl quickly followed after her, trying to catch up.    

The broom coursed through the rain at high speed. Her hood quickly fell off from her head, the strong winds lifted her cloak and the knot that kept it in place pulled backward from her neck, making it uncomfortable. Drops that felt like tiny bits of gravel hit on her face and hands. Even if didn’t hurt, she found it annoying, especially if she wanted to keep a clear sight of where she was going. But despite her complains, the sensation of soaring at full speed, the feeling of the chilly wind flipping her hair and filtering through her clothes was exciting and refreshing. She took a deep breath, enjoying the clean air filling her lungs.

For a brief period of time, she dedicated herself to enjoy the moment.

_‘Now I understand why Harry loves this’_ Nostalgia invaded her mind; she regretted the moment she thought about her dear friend. She didn’t want to think about all the implications that it came with join Voldemort’s ranks. All this time Hermione had barely spared any thought about Ron and Harry, what would they say if they were to know? Her hands gripped the stick, knuckles turning white. She shook her head, dissipating the somber thoughts that crowded her mind.  

 Bellatrix abruptly descended altitude; Hermione tailed close behind her. Her boots almost came in contact with the treetops. Hermione’s body was filled with adrenaline, the usual soft thump of her heart became a sonorous drum in her ribcage.   
  
She knew that flying too low was very dangerous as they could miscalculate the height of the tree and get hit by it, but Bellatrix moved skillfully evading branches left and right, the brunette could barely see her. Darkness and rain added one level more of danger. Their only source of light was the constant thunders illuminating the horizon

 The brunette could barely hold the rapid pace the woman was flying, it was like she had eyes to see in the dark. Still, if Bellatrix was expecting to make her look bad, she had another thing coming. She might be rusty on her flying skills, but she was a fast learner.

They arrived at a small lake which had a river crossing along the whole forest. According to their information, all they needed was to follow the river upstream. A set of lightings rumble in the sky, blinking shadows came from every direction. At that moment Hermione noticed that most of the trees were dead as well in this area. The woman descended even more almost touching the water as she followed the stream. Swiftly evading any obstacle in her way and cutting branches with her wand.

The girl heard Bellatrix’s cackle, probably amused by her struggling to keep up, as she was almost hit multiples times by the hanging branches of nearby trees.

 Hermione’s eyes barely saw a dark shadow that quickly shot upwards; the brunette followed the vexing woman. They were rising almost vertically up to the sky, flashing after flashing of blue light brightening all clouds, it was beautiful as it as was dangerous. She held her broom with an iron grip and continued to follow the dark witch.

Bellatrix abruptly stopped when they reached the lower clouds, her dark eyes surveying this side of the forest. She extended her hand towards the girl, seeing no need to voice what she needed it from her.

Hermione handed the map to the woman.

“Are we going to fully trust what the man said?” Hermione asked while providing light to Bellatrix.

The dark witch studied the map for a second before her attention returned to the girl. “Do you have a better idea? No. Then shut up” Pushing the map onto the girl’s chest. “And turn off your damn light!”

Bellatrix kept looking down waiting for another thunder.

 “There!” The woman shouted; her eyes turned frantic. Hermione followed the woman’s finger but didn’t see anything, quickly followed after the dark witch who was flying at full speed.

They were heading towards the mountain skirts. The sky lighted up again and that’s when she saw it, a small lodge with a small clearing in front.  

Out of nowhere source of light originated from the clearing. Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to distinguish what it was. As it turned bigger and bigger by the second, they realize it was coming their way at full speed. “Move!!” Bellatrix warned. Hermione swiftly moved on to the sides, seeing a large fireball passed right by her.    

Hermione followed the dark shadow that was quickly descending towards the forest, landing 50 meters far from the clearing, immediately using the trees as cover

“Come here! You fucking cowards!!” It was Karkaroff voice.  He started shooting fireballs their way, but his aim far from their actual position.  

Not wasting the opportunity, Bellatrix took the chance and quickly advanced towards him; Hermione trailed close behind her. Once they got close enough, Karkaroff pointed his wand at them but didn’t do anything else. A source of a bright light orb placed on top of them. Whether Bellatrix or Karkaroff cast it, Hermione didn’t know.

“Igor, long no see my friend!” The dark witch displayed a cruel smile, her voice was hi-pitched. Excited to be here. “You look…I wish I could say well, but you don’t.”

“For the Dark Lord to send Bellatrix Lestrange herself to kill me, I must be honored.” Said the man with a thick Russian accent and restraint in his voice. For what little the girl could see from his face, the man looked like he had been barely surviving. His face was pale, his beard was full white now and he looked thinner, dark circles under his eyes and slight twitch in his left eye, his full appearance seemed emaciated.

 His eyes drifted on the brunette. 

“And you brought a friend with you? You must be losing your touch if the Lord thinks you need support” A lighting roared nearby them, flashes of light illuminated everything momentarily.

His expression turned to surprise. “I know you. You are potter’s whore. A mudblood…How?”

Hermione sneered at him “That’s little concern of yours, seeing that you are about to die.”

The girl heard a throaty laugh coming from the man “I don’t think so.” Karkaroff dispelled the orb leaving the three mages in the dark, all of a sudden more than a dozen lights started to shine around the two witches.  The lights slowly approached surrounding the witches from every angle. Hermione watched every face becoming visible by lights.

_‘Wizards’_

Hermione had assumed that it was her light earlier in the sky what might have tip Karkaroff off. But no, he has been expecting them before that.

“I thought your Imperius lasted longer” Hermione seethed under her breath. It was the only feasible explanation.

“It does!” Bellatrix bristled, for a second seeming confused as Hermione.

“I knew the man was imperiused the moment you sent him my way.” A tall man spoke, his most prominent features was a large beard and large curved nose. He approached at the witches; confidence in his steps. Hermione assumed he was the leader of the group. “Mr. H would never smile willingly. He has always been a bitter old man. You can imagine, how strange was to see him come back and smile more than twice in one sentence.”    

Hermione shot a dirty look at Bellatrix, who completely ignore her.  

_‘How the fucking fuck did we end up like this?!’_ Hermione’s increasing anger made her want to incinerate the woman next to her and then burn the whole fucking forest because fuck all this! The mission was: Ask for Karkaroff, trace Karkaroff, kill Karkaroff. Simple! But now she had to face fifteen people more. _This_ , Hermione decided at that moment, that all this was Bellatrix bloody fault. Thanks to her childish attitude and her mood swings they were here, facing more unnecessary problems. The woman wouldn’t work with the brunette, wouldn’t plan, neither share information properly. They could have avoided all this if only Bellatrix would have cooperated.

“After I ended the spell, he told us what you were looking for or rather who. We came as soon as we could and share your plans with Mr. Karkaroff here.”

“And what do you get by helping him?” Bellatrix asked, her eyes never leaving Karkaroff’s frame, who was retracting out of the circle of wizards, with a smug smile on his face that the dark witch wanted to tear off his face with her own hands.

“Mr. Karkaroff is fine man, we do anything for the members of our community. We protect ours, ya see? Of course, the promise of gold after killing you stupid cows, serves as an incentive too.” An annoying smirk manifested on his sunburned face.

Bellatrix laughed straight at his face and then turned to Karkaroff “I brought one extra to play, and you brought what 15 more?” She tutted “You must be truly afraid.”

The dark witch pulled out her wand, everyone else in reflex aimed theirs at the two witches.

“Stick your back to my back mudblood.” The woman muttered for only Hermione’s ears.  The serious tone in the woman’s voice made Hermione, even stewing in her anger, did what was told.

The dark witch kept aiming the wand at the ground. Suddenly, the air hissed and the soil made a cracking sound, then snapped with an explosion of frost covering a large radius, some of the wizards stood frozen from the waist down, a sheen of ice glittered around them. One of them, the leader, being closer to the witches than the rest, had been fully frozen; caught in the middle of a scream.

Bellatrix, giving them no time to react, threw an explosive spell at the frozen body, blowing him up into small pieces.

 “Confrigo!” Hermione followed the example and shoot at the frozen legs of another wizard, destroying his limps as if they were made of glass. The man couldn’t do anything more than to cry in pain at the loss of his two limbs.

Two down, thirteen more to go…

Curses and hexes were shot from every direction at them. Hermione agilely cast a protection spell for both of them, while Bellatrix blew into tiny pieces the last three wizards that were trapped in ice like they were mere target practices.

Confident that her protection spell could last more than a few seconds without her wand, Hermione’s attention focused on the witch in front of her, who has been stubbornly trying to break past her defenses.  

“Serpensortia!” She muttered. A snake came out her wand biting the face of the witch injecting the venom in her nose, whatever spell the witch was about to shoot at her died in her mouth, instead, a shrilling sound escaped from her throat. Hermione twisted her wand making circles with her wrist, watching the snake rapidly curling on the woman’s neck. The witch tried to pull off the snake with both hands, throwing her wand in process, desperately gasping for air. At that moment Hermione lighted the snake on fire, burning the woman’s head in the process. The witch twisted and shrieked in pain, right before dying.  

Bellatrix pointed her wand at a nearby tree, with a thrust of her arm, her wand shot a jet of blue fire ripping through the wood. The entire tree swayed and then crashed down on top of two wizards who saw the falling tree too late. The sound they made as they were crushed by the large log was muffled by the thunders and probably by Bellatrix’s laugh.

The shield fell down, Hermione was about to cast another one, but Bellatrix moved out of reach. Deciding that she didn’t need the girls to help anymore.

Hermione advance towards two wizards, her hand moved fast as she repelled their curses swiftly “Incisura!” She shot at the shorter man, an easy target. He looked clumsy and looked like he could barely hold his ground in a fight. A slashing curse cut through his chest, killing him instantly.

The second man decided to make a run and escape with his life intact. But Hermione full with adrenaline and motivated by anger didn’t let him. She cast a carpe retractum spell to grab him by the ankle and pull him to her.  

“Please, no!” He begged with terror in his eyes.

Hermione didn’t hesitate her next words. “You made your choice. Own it.” She pointed her wand at him.

And exploded his head.

She turned around to see Bellatrix fighting with last five remaining wizards, wait no, four remaining. For the next few moments, the girl’s eyes set only on Bellatrix, she found the death eater’s abilities enthralling. With how much speed the woman’s limbs moved, she dodged and redirected spells as if she could do it with her eyes closed. Her spells hard and aggressive, teasing when she wished to. And deathly the next second. She observed the footing of the woman, her feet move in coordination like she was dancing or perhaps skating, she literally glided over dirt. Giving her advantage over her opponents as they struggle to keep their feet firmly on the ground due to slippery mud. Her opponents got their shield shattered with one of her many vicious spells. To the observer, this was a one-sided fight. It was evident that Bellatrix was just playing with her food.  

Out of nowhere, a slicing hex grazed Hermione’s left side, a little bit more to the right and it would have been a full hit to her chest. Her eyes rapidly searched for the caster. Her gaze set on Karkaroff, that was ready to launch another spell at her. Hermione cast a protection spell, ready to brace for the collision. A force of energy broke her guard, the force of the impact threw her on the air, landing a few meters far from her original position.

Hermione hastily stood up. A ripple of pain made its presence known on her side; the girl reached for the injury. Her fingers grazed the wound, making the brunette grit her teeth at the stinging pain that ran all over her body. She could not sense or see how much was she bleeding. She could only hope the cut wasn’t so deep. “Damn it!” Hermione shouted. She rose her wand to brace herself, Karkaroff threw her in the air again like a rag doll.

This time Hermione managed to suspend herself on the air avoiding the awful fall on the soil.

Hermione yanked the heavy cloak from her neck, throwing it behind her feet. Her eyes filled with anger at the mockery he was doing out of her, she retaliated with all she had. She advanced towards him casting curse after curse, ignoring the pain in her side and the possible risk of the wound opening even more.

Karkaroff deflected her fire spells with a simple wave of his wand, redirecting them towards the forest. To which Hermione responded by increasing the strength of her attacks

The wizard just kept repelling her attacks, Hermione didn’t give him any chance to retaliate and if he dared to do it, it could make an opening wide enough for the girl to hit. She needed to frustrate him as much he did with her. So, she continued throwing spells relentlessly, waiting for the opportunity for a direct strike.

It was a dance typical of duels, wait for the other one to give in. Her feet moving with not so elegant synchronization, but combined by the nimble movements of her wrist it was enough to fuel the strength in her casting.

“Ignis fulgur!” A flame shaped like a thunder headed towards Karkaroff, he immediately responded by creating a shield strong enough to redirect the deathly flames to the sides This time though, the flames started to burn the dead trees nearby.  

 “Give up, stupid girl.” Said Karkaroff as he repelled another spell from her. “You are no match for me!” The man smirked, clearly seeing her labored breathing. His arrogant displayed angered Hermione even more.

Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated all her energy on her right hand. Silently hoping it’ll work. Her wrist twisted and turned “Bombarda Maxima!” she shouted; it was a powerful one, the strength of the spell sunk the mud making a half tunnel on the soil and the noise it made was almost deafening. One more flick of her wand and proceeded to cast her flame like-thunder spell. Orange veins of fire flowed in the air blasting all over his frame. Seeing that it was a full strike, she became confident that it’ll be enough to crash his barriers and luckily disintegrate him in the process.  

What little smile of satisfaction had on her face, quickly fell shaping into incredulity.

She failed.

The man seemed barely affected by her attack.

_‘Impossible. How?!’_ Hermione asked feeling stupefied by the raw power of the man. She acknowledged that Karkaroff was a good wizard, but coming out unscathed from her spell, she hardly believes even Bellatrix would able to hold her ground after that. He had greatly underestimated the man, and in the intent of subduing him, she tired herself needlessly. Using more brute force instead of smarts. ‘Good one, Hermione.’

Hermione could barely keep up with the same rhythm she started, her limbs had started to burn. She kept attacking, however, her attacks became slightly dull, leaving intervals of time between spells.

Karkaroff saw the opening he was waiting for…  

“Avada Kedavra!” The wizard roared; greenlighting generated from his wand heading at her position. Being the quick thinker Hermione barely managed to evade it by stepping sideways hiding her body behind a tree. 

Hermione learned that he wasn’t wasting his time. Unlike Bellatrix, he didn’t play with his opponents. He was casting to kill! The brunette was heavily breathing, beads of sweat running down her face, her body ached, especially her wound, which probably was bleeding even more by now. She took a peek to her right, expecting to see Karkaroff getting closer.   

She didn’t have time to react as the man surprised her from behind levitating her on the air, throwing her to the other side. The force of the spell made her drop her wand, her body took multiple rolls on the soil before she came to a full stop. The brunette felt slightly disoriented for a few seconds, her vision blurred and her head felt dizzy. The bright lights in front of her didn’t help either.  She blinked twice before noticing that it wasn’t lights but the fire rapidly extending to other trees. 

Dread came in full force when she noticed she was disarmed. Desperate brown eyes search for the wand.  

 “Time to die, little whore.” Said the wizard while taking large steps towards her. Hermione did what she could only do, she ran.

He aimed his wand at the girl ready to cast the death curse once more, when a sudden blast of fire hit his shoulder blade, making growl in pain.      

Bellatrix shot a Confrigo at Karkaroff, fully distracting him from his target.  “Isn’t a little too young for you, Igor. How about you play with me instead?”

He turned his body to face the confident dark witch, surrounded by the brutally murdered bodies next to her feet and under the black leather heel there was a body, she was stepping on it as when a hunter does when is posing next to the hunt. The woman began walking towards him, her feet kicking severed heads and limbs on her way.  

“When I kill you, nobody will mess with me. Everyone will know that I defeated the Lord’s right hand.” His voice laced with poison and anticipation for what was next to come.

 “Oh, Igor. You were always looking to be more than the dirt under my heels.” A feral grin appeared on the woman’s face. The tip of her tongue caressing her upper lip, as if she could literally taste this moment in the air. “I can’t wait to rip you apart, you filthy traitor!”

Bellatrix threw the first spell, the red flames warped around the wizard’s protection charm, but strong enough to push him backward with his shield almost cracked. The witch thrust her wand cast once more a blue lightning buzzing and cracking in the space between them making a sonorous peal of thunder, Karkaroff’s protection was decimated after it hit. The man barely managed to hold off the next attack, as a wave of raw force came his way.

“You have improved, Igor. Most people would be dead by now”  

He chuckled under his breath “Oh, you have no idea. Just look.”

He pointed his wand at a nearby lush tree. His right arm fully stretched; his brow knitted in concentration. Bellatrix looked at him, half amused by whatever he was doing. A moment later, streams of green light manifested around the tree, in the air, and on the soil, they followed one single target: Karkaroff’s wand. As the green specks of light were all captured by his wand, the tree quickly started to decay. It looked like he was absorbing the life from the tree, from the roots underground too.

_‘Unbelievable… What kind of spell is this?’_ Hermione wondered, mesmerized by the spectacle of lights. It was like fireflies that came out of nowhere and started to fully glow. But this wasn’t fireflies. No, it was magic. _‘It is life itself. He is been absorbing the life of the forest’_

“Nice parlor trick” Bellatrix answered, uninterested.

“Is more than a parlor trick” Assured the man. Light filtered between his fingers; its origin came from the grip of his wand.  

“Avada Kedavra!”

With a quick turn of her body, Bellatrix dodged the mortal curse. “Oh, straight to business then. You are not fun” Her semblance turned darker and menacing, the mirth in her eyes vanished.

Bellatrix concentrated her freezing spell on one-line over the soil, the air hissed and the water on the ground immediately became frozen, followed by pointed stalactites emerging from the iced ground, with the intention to fully impale him right there. Karkaroff as soon as he saw the ice rising, he stepped backward and cast a fire spell, melting the mortal spikes. 

They moved around one another biding their chance to attack, narrowed eyes looking for a mistake in the other’s actions.    

Karkaroff was the first to engage again, in less than one second, he positioned himself, one-foot forward pointing straight and the other behind pointing left. Bellatrix saw this clearly and knew what was coming.

“Avada Kedavra!”  Her feet moved to the sides, as the curse passed by her.

Two death curses in a short period; Bellatrix was impressed. To cast the death curse required so much energy and strength.

“Now you see, it provides me with more magic.”  Explained Karkaroff, seeing the expression in the woman’s features. The dark witch almost bristled at the cocky smirk of the man. 

He prepared again to shoot the killing curse. This time Bellatrix counter attacked pushing him out of balance, distracting him long enough for her to run towards the woods.

“You are not getting out of here alive!” Said the man following after the woman.     

Bellatrix ran as fast she could, silently regretting her decision to wear high heels. She looked over her shoulder, seeing Karkaroff chasing after her. His eyes blazing with cold rage “Not so arrogant now, fucking wench!” A tree exploded next to her, splinters incrusting on her clothes and hair.

She kept running between the trees, full darkness no longer available as the rain was long gone and the fire kept spreading all over the bark and withered trees. This was one of those rare times for the witch to find herself at odds. Giving up her long-time fantasy to have her way with the man. She turned around to return Karkaroff’s attacks in the same kind. A lethal jet of light ran between the trees, illuminating its path with colored green. 

But it failed to hit its target who covered himself on the floor, hastily crawling behind a large rock. The witch cursed under her breath. Keeping her guard at every moment, she paid attention to any noise that could give her the exact position of the Ex-headmaster. There was no sound in her surroundings, but only the crackling sound of wood being burned in the distance.

 She circled the rock, charcoal eyes waiting expectantly for any sort of movement.

  A rustle of leaves came from her right, rapidly turning her body towards the sound probably originated. Another sound came from the left. She turned her head, but her wand kept pointing at her right. Knowing exactly what game Karkaroff was playing, she waited.

A light rumble came from under her feet. When the woman knew what was happening, one thick root already grabbed her by the ankle dragging her along the ground. With quick reflexes, she aimed at the root, but the quick erratic movements didn’t let her cast fast enough, as seemingly out of nowhere, another root neutralized the woman’s right hand and with it, her wand. In no time, her other two limps were immobilized as well. The roots lifted her and suspended her in the air. The woman pulled and tugged trying to untie herself, but that only caused the roots to tighten even more around her wrists and ankles, almost cutting any blood circulation.

Karkaroff walked out from his hiding spot, his steps deliberately slow pace. Bellatrix saw that the casting had taken a toll on the man, he was breathing through his mouth and his face was dripping in sweat. He approached the woman till they were mere centimeters apart “The Dark Lord’s Lieutenant. At my mercy.” His breath smelled foul and putrid. He set his hand on the woman’s neck “Oh how I dreamed to have you like this, Lestrange”

Bellatrix snarl turned more ferocious and menacing “Even now with your parlor tricks you have to attack from the shadows.” vile raising to her mouth at the disgusting sensation that was to feel Karkaroff’s hands on her. “You have always been a bloody inbred coward.” She spat on the man’s face, smiling in glee as she saw she fully reached his face.

Her smile widened after watching how Karkaroff victorious smile fell, becoming increasingly enraged, he cleaned the spit from his face. Snarling at the woman, he raised his arm slapping the woman with full force.  

“Be done with it. I’m getting bored” Said the dark witch, a line of blood running from her nose, the smile never faltered. But her eyes guarded a murderous glint, fury boiling under her unaffected mask. 

 “Oh no, I’m going to savor this moment. You are not going to die any time soon.” He pushed the tip of his wand under her jaw “You and I, are going to have so much fun” He dragged his wand slowly over her clavicle, his grey eyes followed the invisible lines that painted with the tip.

Bellatrix was about to make a derisive comment but all of a sudden, she felt a very familiar pull inside her body, instantly running through all then limps and then, disappeared. Leaving a very angry Karkaroff behind.

First thing Bellatrix saw after her apparition was Hermione in front of her with the brooms in hand and the coin between the girl’s fingers. The very same the Dark Lord gave the brunette to summon her. Before she could scold the girl by asking her what took her so long.

Her attention took another turn as she observed the girl’s clothes were full of mud even her hair and part of her face. The dark witch smiled and opened her mouth about to say something.

“If you are going to do a bloody joke about me being caked in mud, I swear I will kill you, Lestrange! Right where you fucking are!” Her fiery eyes held warning in them and the threat in her voice was almost tangible. Bellatrix closed her mouth and a glint, close to what could only be described as approbation, crossed in the dark eyes.    

“We need a plan. Karkaroff is a powerhouse” Said the girl looking at the woods. Hoping that it’ll take him time to come back to the clearing, giving enough time to create a strategy.

Bellatrix’s anger rose once more, feeling humiliated at what transpired seconds ago. She aggressively snatched one of the brooms from the girl’s hand, messy curls framing the enraged features of the witch. Maybe it was the dancing shadows, caused by the fire in the vicinity, but Bellatrix seemed to have this maniacal look in her eyes that made Hermione swallow.

“You distract him, mudblood. He is mine.” Her voice was dangerously low. To Hermione's ears, it sounded more like a growl than anything else. She mounted her broom ignoring the scowl from the brunette’s face.

“That is not a plan!” Hermione shouted at her. She cursed multiple times at the woman, she just extended the olive branch to the woman by trying to cooperate with her at that’s is how she is being repaid. “Bloody witch!” She quickly mounted the broom and followed after her.  

It didn’t take long for Hermione to catch up with the dark witch, who was looking left to right the wizard. The brunette looked down below and saw the green lights moving in front of them, gathering a few meters ahead.  

“Don’t let him absorb the tree’s life!!” She yelled at Bellatrix.

“I know!!” The dark witch roared

“Then bloody stop him!!” Hermione growled.

Bellatrix commenced launching her attacks, flying between the trees. Karkaroff halted the absorption process, to protect himself. As Bellatrix turned her broom to get a better angle, he took the opportunity to get rid of the smaller target first. A shot by his wand formed a small twister strong enough to throw Hermione off the broom. It made her fell onto the interlocked branches that served her as a cushion, right before falling on the ground.

Hermione tried to stand up as fast as she could, supporting her body on the tree nearby.  Her legs like jelly and her throat were sore and dry. Her eyes stung from the dust inside her eyes. And above all that, her sides still hurt. Although she cast a quick Episkey on her injury it wasn’t enough to lessen the pain. Which could only mean the spell was combined with an ‘agony hex.’ Karkaroff was a nasty bastard.  

Bellatrix kept engaging him in battle, shooting curses at him and repelling when necessary. Exhaustion was already present in the woman’s face, but never for a second stuttered with her speed and force. The fight kept growing intensity, the dark witch kept holding her ground but after a nasty curse she cast, which required too much energy. Karkaroff tipped the balance on his favor when he shot an Expulso spell, Bellatrix wasn’t quick enough to move before the shockwave threw her off her broom as well.

Hermione saw in slow motion how the woman collided with the nearby branches, hurting her head in the process. At that moment, she felt something primal awaking in her body. She became irrationally furious, her whole body trembled in rage and in an instant the only thing she saw was red. “Damn you!” She growled. Without any thought in her mind but to destroy the man who hurt her mate, Hermione cast a bombarda maxima. Karkaroff was barely able to cast a protego, before the spell hit with full force. But due to the extreme pressure of her attack, his spell started to crack under her power. She got past his defenses, threw him into the air, his body rolling just like she did. 

Hermione blinded by rage didn’t waste time to attack the man one more time. Gathered her last resources of magic and shot a snake at his face; her aim never being more precise. She hastily did circles with her wand commanding the reptile to encircle his neck with all the intention to crush his trachea.

Hermione saw the exact moment when the guarded anger on the man’s features turned into a dislocated look. She took pleasure in it. Because she understood what it meant. Behind his desperation. There was fear. Fear to die. Which what was about to happen.  

Karkaroff was starting to choke, already unable to breathe. He raised his wand closed his eyes in concentration and with the non-verbal he managed to dispel the snake. Smiling in satisfaction at watching how debilitated was the girl after her stunt, what would happen next would be too enjoyable for him.

He calmly stood up ready to punish the girl, but as he eyes set fully on her, there was something on the girl’s language that made him hesitate for a moment instead of cursing to oblivion.

The brunette had lowered her wand. Her whole-body language reflected some degree of relief. When he understood what was happening, it was too late.

“Acri flamma” A soft female voice spoke behind him. His eyes opened in terror; a boiling sensation manifested in his gut, quickly expanding all inside his thorax. A wailing sound escape from his throat, he knees gave up making him fall on the ground. He started to caught smoke uncontrollably, not two seconds later smoke commenced to escape from his ears and nostrils. His eyes connected with Hermione’s, who watched the process with mixed feelings anger at the man and some sort pity for him, his eyes were begging for what she assumed was a quick death. Steam started to come out from the pores of his skin and small patches of flames started to burn his chest.  

_‘Acri flamma, the spell for internal combustion.’_ His organs and soon his whole body will start to burn.

Bellatrix only had eyes for the man who kept screaming in pain, her features reflected mad pleasure at his suffering. Hermione was half expecting for the woman to start dancing over or around the body. Instead, she chose to Crucio him.

_‘Overkill much…?’_

Hermione didn’t share the same taste of entertainment as Bellatrix did, ignoring her vicious display of victory she decided to go back to the clearing.

No matter what happened earlier, about how angry she felt at seeing the witch being hurt. That wasn’t her, Hermione rationalized as she walked. It was her inner wolf, not her, the one who tried to protect the annoying woman.  

She felt a cluster of contradicting emotions in her chest after all _that_ happened. But the ones that stuck with her were that she couldn’t stand the sight of Bellatrix anymore. She was still furious with the witch for how things developed tonight. Everything that went wrong or what not was all her fault, Hermione convinced herself.    

She might be a killer at her own eyes. A merciless person if the corpses she was passing by could say something about it. But she did what she had to do to survive. She needed to complete the task that was lay upon her. If she did good, Voldemort will be satisfied. If he was satisfied… Then, she was one step closer to achieve her goal.

However, Bellatrix fell in another category all on her own. There was this sort of madness in her eyes every time conflict was presented before her. To her, everything was a challenge to be overcome with violence. And yet she dueled like her emotions wasn’t controlling her movements and decisions. All her actions inside a duel were meticulously precise and incisive. It even portrayed certain elegance, that only a pure-blood witch raised in a wealthy family knew how to.

_‘Ugh, her arrogance even shows in the way she wields her wand.’_

Dispelling any related thoughts of the woman, Hermione focused on why she came back here. She had many questions that only Karkaroff could have been able to answer. The main question being, what was that spell he did. And how did it work? Trees interconnect with each other, that would explain why so many trees were randomly withered around the forest. He had been practicing for a very long time.

There was the potentiality that if wielded correctly it could mean an unlimited source of magic. Just to imagine that the practitioner would never get tired after multiple casting high tier, energy consuming spells. At the moment she saw it, she wanted, no, she needed it to know more. Magic like this could open many unknown doors towards new sources of magic. Powerful magic. Power begets more power. And she needed that.

Her hand pushed the wooden door, the hinges creaking incessantly till it was fully opened. Hermione walked inside, casting a spell to fully illuminate the room, the place had expansion charms inside. The man wasn’t living in shambles like she thought he did. The place seemed acceptable if anything. It had all the amenities to have a comfortable life in the middle of nowhere.

She passed by the dinner table. A small round table placed next to the kitchen utilities, on top of it, half-eaten venison meat lay next to a glass of firewhiskey. They caught Karkaroff just when he was dinning.   

Curious eyes inspected every visible corner. His bed wasn’t made up, piles of unwashed clothes rested beside the bed. Hermione scrunched her face at the foul smell.   
The walls were naked and well as much of the furniture, there wasn’t any photographs or decorations.   

Her eyes finally found what she was expecting to see, anxiety grew in her gut at the thought of what she might find. The desk was almost naked, it only had a couple of parchments on top. All of them were blank, but the corners seemed worn-out. Strange.      
She proceeded to inspect the drawers, one was full ink bottles and quills. She opened the second one, but only had blank scrolls.

Strange.

She approached the small bookcase situated in the corner. She grabbed a candle and saw all the books were covered in black leather, but that was only that. None of it had any name or title. She withdrew one and opened it, the pages were white too, soon she grabbed one by one, avid hands opening books, only to find that all of them were empty.  

Then it hit her. The books were charmed a by concealment spell.

The unmistakable sound of Bellatrix’s heels made its presence known inside the lodge.  

Ignoring the annoying woman Hermione summoned all her knowledge of what she knew of this kind of spells and specifically how to break them.

“What are you doing, mudblood?” If Hermione hadn’t been absorbed in her own mind, she would have heard that Bellatrix voice sounded relaxed, happy. Almost friendly towards her.   The death eater took a short-peek at the girl, watching her holding a book in her hand. “Figures. You should probably marry the books” Hermione heard how the woman retreated herself to another side other room. Not a second later she heard glass breaking on the floor and multiples objects falling out of place. “Damn it, where is it?” she started to open cabinets, she guessed it was the small pantry she saw in the kitchen. “There you are.” Said the woman happily. Then she heard the sound of liquid pouring inside of a glass.

Hermione ‘s wand moved over the book commencing to cast the first charm, hoping to reveal the words.

Nothing. 

“I bet you are still a virgin.” Bellatrix said out loud while she poured herself another drink. Hermione didn’t need to see the woman to know she was smiling when saying this.  Then she heard the rasping sound of a chair being dragged across the wooden floor and the thump of both feet falling onto the table. 

She kept ignoring her. Instead, she focused again on what other dispelling charms could work. But nothing sophisticated and complex came to her mind, she was sure that the simplest charms would be useless against this kind of magic. She might need to take these books with her, Hermione concluded.

The candle she was using suddenly turn off, the brunette exhaled tiredly. Annoyed by Bellatrix and her childish antics. She pointed her wand and turned it on again.  Not five seconds long it was turned off again.

She turned around angry at the dark witch “Do you have to be such a bloody chi-…” Her eyes opened in surprise. All the candles in the room were turn off; Bellatrix was making a motion at her to stay silent. She stood up from the chair without making any noise, already armed with her wand.  

Both heads looked up to the ceiling as rumbling sounds came from outside. Hermione focused on the sounds from coming from the exterior, hoping to hear any indication of what was outside. The answer came sooner than she expected as the temperature in room started to drop dramatically, a piercing chill invaded her body and in an instant, her breathing started to condensate. Bellatrix looked at the girl and uttered with a hiss “The portkey, now!”

Trembling hands reached from the satchel.

The dementors were here, which probably meant Aurors send them first hoping to neutralize the threat. If that were the case, the Aurors would be watching from a safe distance. Guarding the perimeter in case someone wants to escape. It was a good thing they didn’t need to run. If she could only find that damn portkey. 

The door opened. Giving no time to react, two dark shadows even darker than darkness itself entered in the room.

“Mudblood! Now!” She ran towards Hermione.

“I got it” She offered Bellatrix to hold the half of coin while she held the other half.

_‘Just 10 seconds’_ She pressed the piece of metal between her thumb and her fingers as hard she could.

“Come on, come on dammit!” Bellatrix was as anxious as her.

The dementors flew towards the two witches. Having nowhere to run they remained in place. One managed to start leeching on Hermione, while the other approached at Bellatrix.

To Hermione, the first second felt like it was scratching the surface of all her happy memories absorbing every memory that was even close to bringing her comfort. But after that second, a feeling of terror and agony griped her body. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, trying to resist. Tears started to run through her cheeks and jarring scream she didn’t know she could muster escaped her throat. Images of her parents being murdered manifested in her mind. Even though they weren’t real, to the girl felt more real than anything.

After 3 seconds. Both witches vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh!! this chapter was truly hard!! Considering that is my first time to write action and description of fights. Let me know your thoughts and if you can give some helpful pointers, I'll be grateful. 
> 
> Do you guys think I should put warnings for the violence bits? It won't get more gruesome than what you read in this chapter, though. 
> 
> PS. I apologize for the many mistakes.


	8. Chapter 8

The portkey successfully transported them at Malfoy’s mansion. They arrived at one of the many sitting rooms located on the first floor. The only sound audible in the room were the heavy gasps of air coming from both witches. Hermione had barely acknowledged her new surroundings, her eyes were lost looking at nothing, her ears were still ringing with the yells of her parents being murdered, her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

The tides of panic were still very present in her system. With her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor, she kept reliving the heartbreaking scenarios over and over in her mind. 

Bellatrix, who already had her fair share of encounters with Dementors was faster to recover from their touch. After just a few minutes spent to calm herself, she turned to face at the girl, who was cleaning the tears off of her cheeks.

Annoyance crept on her at such weakness. 

 “What took you so long?!” Seeing no response from the girl, she pushed her by the shoulder to get her attention.  

“Don’t fucking touch me!!” Hermione reacted instantly to the approach; she slapped the hand as soon as the fingers came in contact with her clothes as if the mere touch of the woman would burn her.

The hunted look was left behind and instead, an enraged look came to Hermione’s brown eyes “Fuck you, Bellatrix! This was all your fault!” Hermione seethed, her lips trembled with the accumulated frustration. But now, she felt she was about to explode if she didn’t talk. “What happened tonight could have been avoided if only you could get a handle of your volatile temper! Your bloody unwillingness to work together, to - to pool our resources!! You led us to tonight’s clusterfuck!! Starting from the fact that you didn’t warn me of the residents of that place. I could have taken a different approach if you have told me!! Let’s not even talk about the confrontation with Karkaroff. You are bloody capricious and reckless!! Like a damn child!”

 The older woman didn’t speak and neither attempt to do anything during the girl’s rant. She just let her talk probably, Hermione thought later that night, because that allowed her to enter into a sense of security, something that the Death Eater needed for what she was about to do.

Bellatrix with a swift movement, giving no time for Hermione to react, took a fist of brown hair behind the girl’s head and pulled the girl towards her body. A grunt of pain came from the violent yank at her hair. Hermione didn’t resist, she didn’t try to push back, neither did she intend to take her wand out the hostler. As the older woman’s expression said something close to _‘don’t even think about it.’_

Yet in this predicament, she didn’t back down and continued gazing defiantly at the piercing charcoal’s eyes. However, they weren’t pitch black as they usually were, but darker grey. The girl could only assume it was one of the side effects from coming to contact with dementors.

Whatever color they were, it didn’t decrease the menacing intensity they usually portray.

The woman slowly approached the girl’s ear, the firm hand over her nape pushing her closer towards the dark witch. Soft black curls unintentionally caressed her cheek; the woman’s natural smell invaded her nostrils once again, but this time it didn’t taste sweet in her mouth, on the contrary, it was bitter and vinegary. Hermione was confused at the sensation on her nape, while the earlier touch felt something that could be described as soft magic mingling and dancing on her skin. This time, was very different. The woman’s touch gave her a prickling sensation all over the back of her head to her tail bone, like tiny needles penetrating her skin.

Hermione could hear the woman’s upper lip rising in contempt. “Let me give you a little warning, mudblood” Her voice was husky, slow and threatening. Hermione felt the pressure of a wand on her side. “You won’t talk to me like that ever again. I will kill you if you do. That. I promise.” She paused for a moment, waiting for the girl to digest her words.

Her voice change to a syrupy tone full of disdain “Now mudblood, let me ask you something if you didn’t know about the village, did you ask if I knew the place? Did you ask me if I knew the informant? Did you ask for my advice?”

The girl stayed quiet, silently conceding that the woman had a point. 

“No, you didn’t. Then don’t moan at me about things not going the way you wanted them to go. Stupid girl.”

But Hermione didn’t care at this point what might happen next, empowered by her lack of self-preservation she glowered at the woman. “How?! How do you expect for me to ask you something when you are taunting me and calling me names all the time? Or straightforward ignoring me like what happened with Karkaroff”

Bellatrix came face to face with the angered brunette once more. “Oh, did you want me to coddle you?” Then she mockingly gasped. “Did I hurt your fee-fees?”

Her expression turned into a snarl “You are a mudblood. The dirt under my boot and nothing else. I will call you however I want.”

“Well, this fucking mudblood saved your life!” Hermione said, baring her teeth. Thinking at the moment Karkaroff’s spell threw the woman from the broom.

Bellatrix’s arrogance slowly drained from her face, turning sober and contemplative, her voice turned grave. Yet the grip on brown hair never wavered. “That you did.” She said. Her memory was different from Hermione’s. If the brunette wouldn’t have used the coin to let her escape from the root’s grip, she’ll be probably death. “A now do you understand? why are you not on the floor dead? Why I decided to oversee your little lack of judgment?”

“Do not forget your place, filth” Bellatrix released her and right after she pushed her by the shoulders. Hermione lost her balance falling on the floor, she bent her torso in discomfort. The impact of the fall made her wound pulse with pain. “Fuck you, Lestrange!” She muttered, Hermione’s fingers itched to take out her wand, but she only stayed at that. She won’t do it, especially not when Bellatrix stood there looking down on her, silently telling her to give her an excuse to hurt her. Or fully kill her.

The large door of the study opened, distracting both witches from their fight. Narcissa entered the room in what appeared to be sleeping clothes. The thick tension that had been fermenting in the room, was diminished by the inquisitive presence of the blonde.

“Everything alright?” She looked at Bellatrix. Her face didn’t reflect any emotion, the question seemed to come out of courtesy more than any sort of concern. “The charms activated in the room.” Explaining why she was here

“Bloody wonderful, Cissy.” Said the woman, her eyes jumping from the girl to her sister.

Her blue eyes moved from her sarcastic sister towards the girl, who was covering her left side with her hand. Narcissa stepped forward into the room “You look hungry, Bellatrix. I’ll ask the elf to prepare you something.” Her voice was emotionless, not even bothering to match her words with what she said.  

Bellatrix released a humorless chuckle. “No need, I’ll go myself” She spared one last look to the pitiful girl and left the room.

Narcissa kept looking at the girl with a stoic demeanor. Hermione thought that probably the woman was just silently relishing in her disgrace. Unwilling to become the entertainment of another Black member Hermione decided to stand up and leave the room too. As she passed by Narcissa’s side, the woman rested her hand in her shoulder. Hermione unconsciously flinched at the unexpected touch. “I have experience with healing. Allow me to help you with your wounds.” Said the blue-eyed woman.

Hermione gave her a guarded look.

She tried to find an ulterior motive of why this woman was suddenly so concern with her well-being. Considering that their last encounter wasn’t very agreeable, she needed to be suspicious of Narcissa too.

As she looked hard into her face, she was surprised to see nothing. Nor lies, nor actual sincerity. Narcissa maintained her expressionless façade. She took a deep breath, her ribcage expanded and the wound instantly reminded her that it was still there and very fresh.

Seeing the hesitation in the girl’s face Narcissa added: “At least let me see the injury and I’ll give you the potions you need.”

Against her better judgment, Hermione accepted. 

Narcissa turned around and walked out of the room, looking behind her shoulder to see if the girl was following her. Hermione kept a safe distance from the woman, letting her know she wasn’t fully trusting the woman’s intentions. The blonde led her to the right wing, where her personal quarters were. A forbidden section for the guests, something that didn’t deter Hermione considering that she had been here before when she borrowed books from Narcissa’s private library to further the research.

They walked in silence during the long walk, the only sounds in the hallway were the muffled steps of the witches on the light green carpet.

Narcissa opened the door and stepped next to it, to let the girl pass. But Hermione stood there, unmoving. She wouldn’t go first. Narcissa understanding the meaning, she walked into the room. Hermione followed after her.

“Take a sit and remove your upper clothes” Narcissa moved towards her cabinet. The room was decorated with a similar style of furniture than the rest of the mansion. Except for the small bed in the corner that seemed more like a hospital bed than a typical bed. The cabinets displayed many different potions that mostly Hermione didn’t recognize at simple sight. Between the cabinets, there was a set of instruments and other essentials for potion making, as well as alchemy. The brunette now understood why the woman was surveying her ingredients with such interest that time she was in her room. Narcissa seemed to be an avid potions practitioner.

Hermione proceeded to remove her upper clothes stained with dried mud. The dried blood was glued to her wound, making her wince from the discomfort. The only garment left on her torso was a lace bra.

“Why are you helping me?” Asked the girl as she sat on the bed, her tone was neutral. But, if Narcissa wasn’t turned back she would have seen the obvious distrust in her eyes. “I thought you hated my kind.

Narcissa chose that moment to turn around “I’m under the orders of the Dark Lord to assist in whatever capacity. That includes healing you.” Hermione searched through her face a sign of deceit, but she was quickly learning that Narcissa hides her emotions quite effectively. Nevertheless, her gut told her that even if her words were to be true, the reason behind it, wasn’t. No matter what Voldemort ordered her to do.

“Let me see, raise your arm a little” Hermione focused in the ocean blue eyes inspecting her wound. The woman’s eyes brows furrowed slightly, then with the tip of her finger touched close to the injury, making the brunette take a sharp breath and closing her eyes as the wave a pain vanished slowly. “It needs attention, as it has the risk to get infected” The woman informed her.

“I think it’s cursed with an agony hex.” Hermione said.

Narcissa nodded “I see it. Let me see if I have something for that.” She returned to her cabinets and opened multiple drawers. She took out different ingredients from each drawer, then put one by one in balance and proceeded to calculate the necessary quantity for each one. From the lowest cabinet, she took out what looked like a small bowl.

The blonde placed all the ingredients into a mortar and with a pestle started to mix them together. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment letting her muscles relax if only a little, after all, she had been working overtime. The exact time of the night elude her, but she was pretty sure the dawn was about to come out very soon. Her tired mind concentrated on the noise of the pestle hitting against the mortar. It felt like a lifetime ago since she had heard that so familiar noise. It surprised her how such simple noise made her think of Hogwarts and her Potions and Herbology classes. Along with her other classes and how happy she was when she was studying, willing to learn everything she could get her hands on.

At moments like this, which were very scarce, she will indulge her mind to drift towards the land of ‘what if’ What if she didn’t have imprinted on Bellatrix? Would her parents be alive? Most likely. What if she could have foreseen Dumbledore’s plan? Would she have joined the death eaters? What if she didn’t become infected with lycanthropy? How different would her life be?

 _‘One bad day, it took one terrible day for my life to change 180°_ _degrees.’_

Her body started to feel heavier by the second.    

Narcissa grabbed a chair and sat in front of the girl “I have to clean the injury manually, first.” Hermione opened her eyes, feeling slightly dizzy. A beat later the ripple of pain caused by the woman’s treatment fully awoke her again. She flinched at the touch but didn’t withdraw from it.  

“Did my sister did this?” Narcissa asked, conversationally. Her voice was tender and feminine without being girly. It sounded graceful to the girl’s ears. “Move a little to your right”

Hermione held a snort back; there was something amusing on the fact that Narcissa would consider first that Bellatrix had harmed her, instead of asking if she was maimed by another witch or wizard. “No. Karkaroff did it.”

“Did you kill him?” Soft fingers carefully removed any remaining dirt and small strands of fabrics mixed with blood and flesh. Narcissa had a nice touch, Hermione thought. Her brown eyes kept stealing glances at the woman, who seemed fully focused on her task. She could help but appreciate that now that she had the hair loose, it made her look younger than she was.

“Bellatrix did… I just distracted him.” She replied. Narcissa hummed in acknowledgment.

“How bad is it? I haven’t dared to see it”

“It did a large cut, from here…” Narcissa put a finger just under her breast “…to here” pointing the beginning of her back. “At least 1 centimeter wide. You were lucky, it was meant to cut deep.”

“Yeah, I know.” She murmured. It almost cost her life by getting distracted, that was one thing she couldn’t blame on Bellatrix.

The brunette let the woman do her thing, in the meantime she let her eyes wander around the room. From time to time, her eyes would unconsciously drift towards the blonde, taking small glimpses of her features.

Narcissa didn’t look like Bellatrix at all, hard to believe they were sisters. The woman before her had thinner lips than Bellatrix’s. Although they almost seemed to have almost the same chiseled nose, except that Narcissa’s was pointier. The girl’s eyes drifted towards her neck, Narcissa’s had a rosy skin while Bellatrix was fully alabaster. Probably both had born with pale skin, but Narcissa’s was naturally suntanned while the fact that Bellatrix has been never touched by the sun in 14 years, helped her preserve her original skin color.

Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes drifted at the indiscreet cleavage. She swallowed hard, realizing that the woman didn’t have anything under her peignoir, she could clearly see the outline of her breast. Hermione’s gaze quickly moved to her lap feeling slightly embarrassed and very confused.

She took a quick glance at the woman’s face, who was deep in concentration cleaning her injury.

“You seem to like making potions.” Said Hermione with rosiness on her cheeks.    

“Something of the sorts.” The woman replied noncommittally. Narcissa finished to clean the wound and stood up to leave the material on the small table. Then proceeded to grab the mortar “I have always wanted to become potion’s master.” Hermione ignored how what woman flinched at her own words, instantly regretting being too honest.

The blonde pulled her wand and cast a spell to pour boiling water into the small bawl.  Soon the smell of lavender and namut root permeated the room. “Why didn’t you?” Hermione asked.

“Real life happened, Miss Granger.” Narcissa’s tone made very clear that the conversation was closed. But it was enough for Hermione to understand the ramifications of that comment. “Here, drink this. It serves for the wound doesn’t get infected.” Hermione took the small bottle and drank all its contents.

The woman put all the ingredients from the mortar into a white cloth. “This is going to burn” She warned at the girl, who only made a noise in acknowledgment.     

Hermione hissed at the contact. The woman kept pressing the cloth over the whole injury, letting the active ingredients do their job. Blue eyes looked with curiosity at the girl’s right shoulder “What happened to you here?” The woman asked, touching with her fingertips the rough fractal scar.

The girl grabbed the woman’s wrist before her fingers could continue to touch it. “Sorry, is a sore spot.” The girl said, sounding apologetic. Her hand opened, releasing the slim wrist.

Narcissa submerged the cloth on the water left in the mortar and did the same procedure than before “Why haven’t you removed it?”

“I don’t want to. Otherwise, I’m afraid I might forget what happened to me” A somber look manifested in her brown eyes. Like Narcissa, Hermione told her that this line of conversation was not to be pursued any further.

They didn’t talk after that.

When Narcissa was over Hermione summoned a shirt from her wardrobe and disposed of the mudded rags. “Thank you, Ms. Malfoy. For everything.” She tried for her voice to sound genuine, even though she didn’t understand her motivations for the woman to help her.  

At least this time, things were far better than the last encounter she had with the woman in her room a week ago.

But, can she be blamed? She wondered. That night there was a full moon, she always tends to wake up very cranky after her transformations. She couldn’t tell that to the woman, though. 

Narcissa approached before she left and gave her two vials. “Here, this is for the rest of your bruises and this one for the blood you surely lost.”

“Thank you again, Ms. Malfoy”

“Have a goodnight Miss Granger.”   

 

* * *

 

Now that she was alone on her bed, sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes images of her parents being murdered came to the front of her mind, making her stomach lurch at the first glimpse. So, she remained with her eyes open, think in everything but what the damage the dementors caused in her psyche.

She wondered if Bellatrix might be having the same trouble while trying to sleep. Probably not, assumed the girl. It must be the dementor having trouble sleeping after what that thing might have seen in Bellatrix’s mind. She snorted loudly at the silly thought.

Bellatrix…

Hermione found that not a single word of what the woman told her bothered her; She was hardened enough to take on verbal abuse. She truly couldn’t care less. What truly bothered her was how responsive she was to her touch and smell.

 _‘I need to stop it’_ She did a mental note to increase the dose on the potion tomorrow. She’ll cross the bridge in case that doubling the dose doesn’t work. 

Her fingers reach for the scar on her side. It was still rough on the edges, but Narcissa told her it’ll take 2 more days to fully heal and disappear. Thankfully the pain was gone. She could tell the woman did a good job.

She rolled on her good side. Her mind assaulting her with the image of Narcissa’s body and the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything. Why suddenly did she find herself so embarrassed for it? And worse of all, why she was slightly aroused at the thought? The question she’d been asking herself since Bellatrix became her imprint came back to the front of her mind.  

_‘Ugh, do I really like women?’_

* * *

 

Hermione arrived at the dining room at mid-afternoon. Having skipped breakfast, she was fully starved. Her steps haltered for a beat; she was surprised to find people in it considering the time. Dolohov and Yaxley were sitting in front of each other, she was sure that they were having a heated discussion before she made her entrance in the room. Now, they just were looking at her with curiosity but the distrust remained on their eyes. At the other end of the table was Lucius and Narcissa drinking tea.

She walked halfway, of what the brunette considered, an unnecessary very long table. The blue-eyed woman acknowledged her presence with a simple look directed at her and Hermione returned the gesture with a short-lived smile. The brunette sat on one of the many chairs. Just as soon she snapped her fingers, and one of the three elves usually attending the kitchens appeared in front of her.

“What would the miss like to eat? Or drink?” Asked the young elf.

“Whatever you have already, or it doesn’t take to much time to prepare. And a cup of black tea, loaded, please.” A kind smile painted the girl’s rosy lips.

“At the order, Miss.” The elf said diligently.

The brunette reclined on the backrest and waited for her food to arrive. Her face was pointing upfront, staring at the large windows that presented the view of the outside garden and the white peacocks frolicking here and there. But her ears were set to pick up whatever both parties were speaking between themselves. Specially Dolohov who kept stealing glances her way. First Greyback. now Dolohov, she wondered if she should count Bellatrix on her list too, especially considering what happened yesterday. 

No, if Bellatrix wanted to hurt her, she doesn’t need to plot for it. She’ll just appear in the middle of the night, kick the door of her room and Crucio her to her heart content. Or anywhere at any time. She couldn’t be wary all the time. It’ll drive her crazy.

The elf appeared with a soft pop in front of her placing the meal and tea in front of her.

Hermione saw what the elf brought to her, sausages, eggs, ham, a full plate of tropical fruit, toast with jam. Satisfied with the contents, she smiled. “Looks delicious, thank you.” 

“You are most welcome, miss.” The elf emotionally replied, touched by her short but kind words, before disappearing again.

Hermione started to taste the contents of her plate when she heard a shriek, typical of wood being dragged over wood, came from her left. Her hand went to her wand as a reflex, hearing the large steps were approaching her way the girl had to take precautions. Hermione pretended to ignore her surroundings and kept eating with her left hand. The body stop next to her. She delayed her attention a moment before acknowledging the presence. Dolohov was looking at her, his face was expressionless and his wand wasn’t anywhere visible. The girl gave him an uninterested look before returning to her meal.  

“I heard that Lestrange and you made all this.”

He threw the newspaper on the table next to her plate. There it was, on the first page of the Daily Prophet, the clearing they were last night at. White sheets covered the dismembered bodies on the soil, while multiple Aurors moved around the ground looking for clues and the cherry on top was the thoroughly burned forest in the background.

Hermione took a large bite from a piece of toast that tasted heavenly according to her taste buds, these elves knew how to make their bread.

**_Mass murder in the northern islands._ **

_Yesterday an anonymous source reported to the Aurors, posted in Iseville, the disappearance of many wizards at the southeast of the Vertwood village. The two Aurors responded according to protocol and headed to investigate. They arrived at the scene rather quickly, guided by the wildfire caused by unknown reasons at the moment. “We knew something terrible might have happened, but we never imagined this” Andrew L., one of the two Aurors said in a statement. What they found could only be described as heinous in nature. “We sent a Patronus immediately to the Auror Department at the Ministry,” Andrew said._

_The pair of Aurors had an immediate response; led by the Head of Auror Department: Gawain Robards, a large group of Aurors came rapidly to investigate, their first response was to send Dementors to track any possible perpetrator. An official statement claims that they found no one in the area._

_At the present moment, the authorities have found 14 bodies, mostly all are lacking limbs one way or another. The note sent by the anonymous source mentioned that Death Eaters were involved in the crime, however, the authorities still have to give a statement about the motivation behind the massacre or whether death eaters have a direct relation to it. As for the moment many belongings from a small lodge, located nearby from where the massacre took place, are being taken into custody, hoping it’ll provide further insight into what happened here._  
  
_Some of the deceased were recognized as wanted criminals by the Ministry such as…_

 “16,” Hermione said between bites in a monotone voice. Her eyes connected with Dolohov; the man didn’t seem to understand what she meant. “There were 16 people besides Lestrange and me, which means they haven’t found Karkaroff charred corpse or they did and haven’t reported it yet. And the other one, they will never find him as he was blow up into tiny little pieces.” She threw the paper on the table pushing it towards Dolohov “And I assume that the anonymous source was a man that calls himself Mr. H, he was an acquaintance of the deceased.” Hermione spared one last look to the death eater, before fully returning to her meal.  

_‘Of course, they had to take the books. Damn it.’_

Dolohov raised his eyebrows and then a smile formed on his lips. He accepted the answer and walked back to the other man who was waiting for him at the main door. “I won. Pay up, Yaxley” was the last thing Hermione heard before the two men left the room.  

She took a glimpse to her right and noticed that Narcissa and Lucius stayed silent sipping their teas, evidently, they were paying attention to her interaction with Dolohov.  

Lucius picked something from his lap and placed on the table. It was another copy of the Daily Prophet.

_‘Good, now they know what I’m capable of’_

Hermione’s eyes fluttered at the taste of the elves’ handcrafted jam.  _  
_

* * *

 

Hermione spent the whole day hole up in the library till late in the evening, her eyes kept avidly devouring the book on her hands and taking notes when she happened to find something relevant. No sounds on the library but the often rippling noise of a page being flipped and the scratching sound that comes when a quill writes on parchment.

_‘…After a long-term transformation in Animagus form the patient might need medical help to fully recover his physical form, as remnants of their transformation might be still very present in his or her mind and body, this might require from weeks to months of potion doses.’_

“…Hmm, I wasn’t wrong. Pixie dust might be necessary after all.” Hermione muttered to herself.

The brunette was so absorbed in her book and notes that she became unaware that her Occlumency shields weren’t raised anymore. And more importantly, she never did notice the presence until it was already in her mind.

 _“What have you found?”_ Words echoed in her mind; the words were uttered with a hiss that the girl immediately recognize _._ Hermione lowered her book and looked down on the floor, closer to her feet there was a giant snake looking at her with those bright yellow predatory eyes.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and replied out loud “Hello to you too.” But Nagini didn’t say anything else or moved, even blinked assuming that she did. She only continued gazing at the brunette and every three seconds her forked tongue would come out her mouth like a black leather whip.  

Brown eyes roamed along the snake’s large body, today she looked more well-fed, for not saying fat. She seemed to had a large dinner, surely another victim of the lord’s temper. _“Is rude to stare,”_ Nagini said, yet there wasn’t any sign of reproach on her voice.

“You are doing the same”

_“You haven’t answered”_

The brunette released a frustrated sigh, the snake was just as demanding as her master and didn’t know how to ask things properly. “I need to do more investigation before I can honestly say anything.” She reclined her body on the backseat and pointed at the book on her lap, letting the snake know that she just interrupted her research. “For now, knowing where it came from can help us to understand the curse and hopefully create a sort of antidote.”

“This book” She pointed at the recent she acquired a day before “mentions another source from the curse that is not related with Metamorphmagi or Animagus.” 

Nagini large body started to clumsily coil, Hermione had learned to recognize as a sign that she was comfortable. Which in this case, she wanted to hear more about what Hermione had to say. Due to Nagini’s body was especially large tonight it took her longer to fully accommodate herself. Hermione smiled at the sight.

 “Have you ever heard of Nüwa?”

_“The snake goddess. Mother used to tell me stories about her when I was a little babe. I know that she became revered by the muggles a long time ago. Why you ask?”_

“Well, according to this research it says that the descendants of Nüwa were condemned to be born snakes, but perhaps the spell went wrong and…” Hermione couldn’t hold back her curiosity anymore and asked “Wait. How old are you?” She remembers Nagini telling her small memories of things that happened more than 30 years ago.

The snake just kept looking at her, with the same inactive expression. Considering that she only had two expressions, neutral and pissed, Hermione preferred the neutral one better, that meant she wasn’t pissed at her for such innocent question.

The girl waited a few seconds more before giving up. “Fine then, ignore me.”  She crossed her arms.  

After a moment Nagini spoke. _“We are not alone. Your mate is here.”_ Hermione glanced at to where Nagini was looking at. Bellatrix was leaning on one of the many bookcases watching the interaction from afar. Her face didn’t reflect anything more than a hardened expression.

_‘Now what is she angry about?’_

_“_ Is not _…She is not my mate.”_ Hermione switched channels of communication. 

 _“Isn’t it?”_ If Nagini could smile, she’ll be doing it right now. The rough serpentine voice in her head had an amused undertone laying in between.

 _“No, it is not.”_ Hermione refuted. _“You have no idea what you are talking about.”_

_“Then tell me, why your heart accelerated at the sight of her?”_

_“Because with her, there is always a chance that I might die by her hand.”_ It was true. That woman was the only person in this mansion that had her on edge every time they were sharing the same space, adding the events of early morning that were still fresh on the girl’s mind. Of course, her heart would accelerate, her system was starting to pump adrenaline as a knee-jerk reaction.

Nagini became uncoiled, her large body accidentally pushing the tower of books the girl had placed close to her. _“We’ll meet again. I wish you…luck.”_

Bellatrix watched the snake pass by her; the animal ignored her presence, like always. Brown eyes observed the small sneer that formed on Bellatrix’s pale features when she looked down, only lasted for a half a second but it was there. She found that piece of information interesting, Lestrange didn’t like her master’s pet.

Brown eyes scrutinized the woman’s figure, her boots were fully mudded up to the ankle, there were stains of mud on her dueling pants too. And the brunette was sure that the bright stain on her corset was fresh blood. Obsidian eyes bright with the candle lights and the pupils seemed to be fully dilated, adrenaline was present in her system. She was back from killing someone or somebodies…

Hermione pushed herself up from her seat, then came to rest the back of her thighs against the edge of the desk, she crossed her arms “What do you want, Lestrange?” her voice came colder than she expected to. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione knocked her knuckles on the heavy wood door before she opened it, her sight easily adapting to the darkness of the room, floating candles were situated in corners and the ceiling, giving the room the exact amount of illumination to be able to walk inside without knocking something but not enough to see the details on the objects. The girl took tentative steps towards the intimidating wizard. “My lord, you called for me?” Voldemort was sitting next to the balcony; his eyes were watching the dark horizon. Voldemort reclined his head to the right and looked back to the girl standing far behind him.

“Ah, Hermione. Do take a seat, my dear.” Hermione approached one of the divans located in the center of the spacious room.

She took in what little she could appreciate from the place. The room’s decoration reflected the tastes of another person rather than the Malfoy’s. The carpet seemed to be cream colored and the ceiling was made of wood artfully enchanted with different intrinsic patterns, that took the shape of flowers and magical creatures. The fabric of the sofas shined under dimmed light.   

The Dark Lord stood up and walked towards the other seat in front of her.

His red eyes settled on the woman who entered after the girl. “Bellatrix you too” He made a motion for her to sit as well.

Ruby red eyes gaze at the brunette “Bellatrix already told me what happened yesterday” His eyes didn’t display any approval or satisfaction. His voice was raspy but lacked sharpness. It didn’t provide too much confidence in the girl. Insecurity started to stir in Hermione as she almost physically winced at his stern voice. Was he angry? She wondered.

Her hands closed into fists clutching the fabric of her ropes tightly between her fingers. Surely Bellatrix would be willing to step so low as to lie to make her look bad in front of Voldemort. If that were the case Hermione was ready to defend herself, to say her arguments against the woman… But before the brunette could keep steaming in her rising anger, he spoke.    

“She said you did quite well, isn’t that what you mentioned, Bella?”

“Indeed, I did. My Lord.” Said Bellatrix.

That comment fully disarmed Hermione, leaving her mind stunned. She turned her face to see Bellatrix reaction, but what she only saw was a woman with a bored expression with arms and legs crossed. 

“That you single-handedly defeated 4 skilled wizards and held your ground against Karkaroff for a long time. Is that true?”

 Hermione could only nod. As her vocal cords were still numb. Did Bellatrix compliment her in front of Voldemort?   

“Tell me, Hermione, did you like it? The thrill of the battle, killing them, did you enjoy it?”

When people said aftershocks of battle, they usually referred at the eye twitching, the trembling hand and other behaviors that came after violent experiences. Hermione still felt the aftershocks of battle, in a very different way. The residues of the thrill she felt when using every bit of magic to destroy and maim, still tingled under her skin when she thought about it.  

_‘…I loved it.’_

“Yes, I did. My Lord.”

Voldemort’s eyes shined with satisfaction. His arm extended close to Hermione, and from the palm of his hand, he conjured a thick white smoke that slowly took the shape of a person. Hermione squinted little at the figure, it was Karkaroff. “There is always something…” He made a pause, to make sure the girl was paying attention, red eyes connected with brown ones. He made the illusion spell become color red as flames crept on the body, but the figure on his palm started to morph. Karkaroff grew a long white beard, with a pointy wizard hat on his head, then his robes changed to more colorful ones. “…very thrilling in holding the life of others between your hands, and then extinguish their very light of life from their eyes. Till eyes become ashen.” There was a twinge of pleasure that came from the display before her eyes, a slow smile formed on the girl’s lips while watching the fire engulfing the agonizing figure of Dumbledore.

The man closed his palm, extinguishing the illusion.

“A wonderful feeling, my Lord” Added Bellatrix, who seemed calmer now than earlier in the library.

 _‘Is like having a power you never knew you could have. And when you have a taste of it, you discover you loved it.’_ She was close to voice out her thoughts but something inside her told to better keep it to herself. It was already complicated to make the unconscious become conscious.

“However, you still got wounded.” His words sounded reproachful. Brown eyes returned to see the wizard in surprise, there was no concern on his features, only disapproval. 

“A minor injury my Lord.” The brunette said, trying to break off the ashamed grimace of her face.  

He made a motion with his hand implying that her words her held no meaning. “But an injury nonetheless, which tells that you still lack skill.”

“I’ll practice more.” Said the girl like a promise.

“I’m sure you will” The wizard proceeded to walk towards the balcony, he was contemplative for a span of time then he turned around and said, “that’s why I’ve tasked Bellatrix to train you.”

A cold tremor rippled all over her body, concentrating all its energy on the nape of her head, raising gooseflesh all down her arms. Hermione turned to look at the woman, expecting to see her as disturbed as she felt herself. Instead, she found Bellatrix easing back on her sit, looking bored.

 She returned to see Voldemort “W-What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this is it. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter. 
> 
> I have to do a little house-keeping in the earlier chapters. Correcting mistakes, throw some bricks and cement in plot holes and all that. Right now, chapter 1 to 3 are already more palatable. At least I hope so.


	9. Chapter 9

Voldemort’s word was law and Hermione learned that pretty fast when she arrived here. However, the mere suggestion that this woman was going to train her made her jump from her seat, even risk punishment for insubordination.

She respectfully inclined her head before speaking. “My Lord, I’ve been training by myself and o-of course with your earlier input I have improved exponentially in this last months. I do not wish for your Lieutenant to waste her time with something, I assure you, I can do by myself.”

Voldemort listened attentively to her words; Hermione internally sighed in relief as he didn’t seem to be mad at her.

“Bellatrix?” The dark wizard directed his gaze towards the other woman.

“No, no waste of time, at all” Hermione didn’t need to turn around to see that the woman was smiling.   

“Then I don’t see any problem.” The man said.

She sat down again, understanding that this was a lost battle. Frustrated with herself for not being able to find a strong viable argument that may dissuade the man from his decision, Hermione had to relent.  

A shiver ran down her spine, one of her biggest concerns have become reality, just the idea that she was going to spend more time with Lestrange it made her stomach feel uneasy.

 _‘Could it be that Bellatrix had suggested this?’_ That’ll explain her lack of reaction and her unnerving willingness to train her.

 _‘But If the idea was hers, what would be the purpose of it?’_ Her nails started to dig further into rosy skin _‘To make my life a living hell.’_ Her mind came to an immediate conclusion. _‘This was Lestrange’s idea and Voldemort agreed to it’_ It made complete sense to her.

“For how long?” This time, the brunette turned to look at the woman.

Bellatrix’s eyes were filled with amusement; it was obvious she was taking pleasure at the girl’s distress. “Let’s see, I could train pixies to wield a wand faster and better than you in one week. With you, I don’t know, it’ll probably take several months. Even years.”

Hermione’s nails dug deeper into her palm, but she didn’t take the bait. She knew what would happen if they start to fight again. She turned her attention to Voldemort “My Lord, I have other responsibilities with you that I do not wish to neglect. And as a personal responsibility with myself, I might not be going to Hogwarts anymore, but I wish to continue my studies. I beg you.”

Bellatrix snorted loudly at her back.

If Hermione clenched her jaw any further, she was going to break her teeth.

“For now, your only responsibility now is to become better at dueling.” He turned around again to face the scenery outside “But I must agree, education is important.”

After a few moments of silent consideration from his part, he spoke again. “You’ll train with Bellatrix till she deems you suitable, for 3 hours a day.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Now, leave us.” Hermione bowed before walking away.

As she was leaving the room, she heard the beginnings of the conversation between Voldemort and Bellatrix…

“Now, be brief. How many Aurors are dead and how many caches were lost…”

“It was Greyback’s responsibility to…”

“But you were in charge.”   

Moonlight filtered through the windows, illuminating every step of the way. Voldemort liked to live up to his name: ‘Dark Lord’ The man enjoyed spaces where the light was scarce. Normally the whole mansion would be fully illuminated until midnight when the elves extinguished every source of light in the common areas. But here, like the rest of the rooms the Lord likes to use, the light was very limited. If it weren’t for the natural light, Hermione would have to use her wand to be able to see.

Amidst the boiling feelings of frustration in her gut, Hermione rational side wondered if Bellatrix will actually train her? And if so, how far will she go? And how could she defend herself if the woman decided to create real damage on her? She couldn’t help but make up images and scenarios of the endless possibilities in which Bellatrix might abuse the power she has been granted over her. The idea itself only helped to increase the turmoil of sensations in her stomach.

She stopped at the beginning of the hallway; she looked to her left, she wanted to climb up the stairs and go to her room, then destroy and explode something inside. She was in dire need of an outlet for her magic.

But first, she needed to confront Bellatrix, to confirm her assumptions and more importantly to know what game was Lestrange playing at this time.     

She waited.

It irked her to no end to see Bellatrix so satisfied with herself, she looked like the cat who ate the canary in that room. Which it made her think that this was indeed Bellatrix’s idea.

And if this wasn’t Lestrange’s plan like she believes it is, the other option was that Voldemort had this idea, only because Bellatrix told him that she got injured, which if she had kept her mouth shut then they wouldn’t be here. In the end, it was Bellatrix’s fault one way or another.

Hermione wasn’t willing to move on, a part of her just couldn’t help but hang on to the strong emotions she was feeling in this moment. At random moments her mind will keep replaying the fight they had yesterday, she was rapidly getting tired of the physical and verbal abuse that this woman did to her. On the other hand, she knew Bellatrix, if provoked, would make good on her promise to kill her.

Then why was she waiting for her? She was angry and she wanted answers. And the witch had them.     

Before she could stew further in her irritation, the girl came back from the depths of her mind just in time to see Bellatrix crossing in front of her.

Hermione went after her and placed herself next to Bellatrix matching the speed of her steps with the woman’s pace. “Lestrange, this wasn’t his idea. You did this! You suggested this! Why?!”

Bellatrix didn’t bother to look at the girl, she kept walking faster, but Hermione followed after her.   

“I don’t understand! you hate me just as much as I hate you!” The girl raised her arms in exasperation, frustrated that sometimes she just couldn’t figure it out how the mind of this woman worked.

“I didn’t! stupid girl!” The woman halted her steps. “You are worthless filth, what makes you think I want to waste my time with you?” She looked at brunette like she wanted to strangle her.

“How about to make my life unbearable?”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself, mudblood”

“If not to make my life unbearable then why?!”

“When he asked me about our little mission, I did tell him that you are mudblood, useless as they come. Dead weight on my shoulders.” She sneered. “He didn’t believe me, asked me to see into my memories.”

Hermione’s tense posture deflated a little. It had been his idea, after all. What was the Lord thinking? Was he changing his opinion about forcing Bellatrix on her? With what purpose? She already proved her loyalty to him. It didn’t make any sense.

_‘He saw into her memories…?’_

“He is punishing you” Was the only conclusion Hermione could arrive at. “Us…”

“You for lying and me for getting injured.” The dark witch features relaxed slightly; Bellatrix’s eyes flashed with recognition, telling the brunette that the dark-haired woman share the same conclusion.

But then her eyes turned to their normal selves. “I didn’t lie. You _are_ deadweight”

 Hermione was about to open her mouth and retort, but Bellatrix kept talking “But then I thought that is not such a bad idea” The dark witch stepped closer to her, an intimidation tactic that Hermione was pretty much familiar by now. “Because you see, little mudblood, I don’t trust you.” Bellatrix looked up and down and sniffed in disgust “You hide something…And what better way to know if you are not a traitor than to have you under my thumb.” 

“Our Lord doesn’t seem to think so. He believes that I’m worthy enough to be here.” Hermione said.

Bellatrix’s lips shaped into a cruel smile; her piercing eyes opened to emphasize her next words. “Don’t confuse your usefulness with being worthy, you are not worthy of anything.”

The smile became wider and pitch-black eyes glinted at the sight of the girl’s bravado flickering for a second at the same time trying hard to swallow her own words. “Be outside in the back garden after midday.” Bellatrix didn’t wait for a reply as she walked past by her side, shoving the girl with her shoulder.

Brown eyes, framed by a deep frown, watched the woman disappear into one of the many rooms ahead. “Bloody witch…” She closed her eyes for a few seconds, feeling the subtle pulses at the back of her head, a common symptom that a headache was coming her way.

There was no way something good would come out this, the girl thought.

“Granger.” A monotonous but familiar voice called her name from behind. Hermione turned to face the man. She couldn’t explain why, but a feeling close to relief set on her stomach and for just a second Hermione wanted to display a small smile, probably because the man was the only reminder of her past life.

But before she could display these feelings that were close to manifest in her features, she thought better of it and reminded herself that the man before her wasn’t her friend.

An Ally? That remained to be seen, hopefully soon. Was he another pawn in the greater game? Yes, just like her.

 And if her suspicions were true, he spied for Dumbledore. Which was something that mattered to her, not for the Lord’s cause but for her personal cause. With that in mind and her anger lingering under the layers of her temperament, her reply turned polite without being anything else but general courtesy.

“Professor Snape.”

“Must I remind you that I’m not your professor any longer?” The was certain undertone there in his words and voice; like he didn’t truly mean it.  

“Snape, then.” A pawn just like her… An equal.

“Making friends, I see.” The man said while his head turned to see the trail that Bellatrix walked minutes ago.

“You saw it. The best of friends.” She said dryly.

They stared at each other. Behind his usually stoic face, Severus observed carefully, there was a reserved look in his eyes that Hermione had seen before but never understood what was about.

“Walk with me, Granger.” The man turned to his left and approached the main door.

Outside the night was chilly, living in higher lands would make, that even in summer, people wear an extra layer of clothes during the night. The peacocks’ cawing announced that they were still cavorting at these hours, their feathers became brighter as they were touched by the rays of moonlight; looking stunningly beautiful. Hermione winced at the shrilling sound one of them did, she remembered that their high-pitched calls were the main reason why she didn’t like these animals.

They continued walking in silence, taking steps farther away from the Mansion. Hermione chose that moment to rose her head up to the sky and see the beautiful moon shining brighter even at its Waxing Gibbous. She could not help but take it as a reminder that in no less than 20 days the full moon will come and with it her transformation.

“I saw the newspaper.” Snape spoke, bringing her back to reality. They continued walking down a path to lower terrain, the brunette realized this one led to the Mansion’s west gardens.    

Hermione expected him to elaborate further, but after a short span of time, nothing came. “Your point?”

“Did you participate in the murders?” There was no emotion in his voice, nothing that could tell Hermione whether he approved or not.

Was he expecting a negative answer?

 _‘Why does it matter, anyway?’_ Her hand went through her hair instinctively as an attempt to dissuade the increasing pulsing in her head.

“Yes.”

The man only nodded in acknowledgment; his features remained impassive. Soon, they were stepping over low-cut grass, marking the beginnings of the luxurious garden. As the silence between them reigned again, the brunette sensed that he wasn’t about to continue that line of conversation.

 “Have you told Dumbledore that I’m still alive?” Hermione wondered what would she do if he were to say ‘yes’

“I believe you said you didn’t want him to know.”

“That’s correct… But I can’t stop you.”

“Neither can I stop you.”

“He lied to all of us.” Severus said.

 _‘Ah…Of course.’_ She more than anyone understood the feeling.

They stopped at the main fountain right in the middle of the garden. This fountain, unlike the others she had seen before, had the Malfoy crest in the center. Three male statues held the heavy crest over their shoulders; their gazes set on the nocturnal visitors of this garden. Hermione could swear they were looking at her with a certain disdain. The black dragons on the side of the shield batted their wings while the snakes on top intertwined and hissed among themselves. And the ribbon under the large ‘M’, which occupied most of the space on the shield, proudly displayed the family’s motto: **_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_**.

Even though Hermione considered some of the political views from Voldemort were reasonable; the blood purity one was just plain ridiculous. Seeing it present in the Malfoy’s family crest only managed to annoy her.

“You are either too naïve or too stupid to realize that he would know earlier than you can count on.” The potions master said.

“He won’t know if you don't tell him” Hermione insisted.

Now that she had the answer she was looking for; Hermione could move on and ask the question she was meaning to ask in their last conversation. “Shall I be worried, Severus?” Her eyes were set on the silver-colored fishes that swam in the water fountain while her fingers played with the outline between her wand and her sleeve.   

“Shall I be worried that if he were to know, will he order you to kill me?”

She wanted to cast a Diffindo across the fishes, slice them into chunks or maybe Crucio one by one

...Maybe later.

“...Will you kill me, Severus?”

This time Severus turned to fully face the girl, Hermione did the same. “What do you think that is going to happen when things start to progress from now on?” He raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner but didn’t wait for a reply.

“You won’t be killing murderers anymore. You’ll be killing innocent people. Are you willing to pay that price?”

Hearing no reply from the girl, Severus kept talking.

“What are you going to do when you and your friends meet face to face? Because if you think that is not going to happen, you are severely mistaken, Granger” His voice started to turn harsh and angry. “Do you think our Lord will let you live, if you as much refuse to kill them? Have those thoughts have passed through in that big brain of yours?!”

 “Of course not! Why would you? You don’t seem to understand the consequences of your actions.”

“And allow me to enlighten you and give you the reason why _I know_ you haven’t truly thought things through.” He made a pause as if he was trying to harness the frustration threatening to become more evident in his voice and features. “Because you are here! Still playing in a war. A child! In a war that only belongs to grown-ups.”

Hermione brushed aside his words. There he was again, talking down at her like she was a little girl that didn’t understand anything of how things worked. The brunette was starting to reach her limit from this constant derision towards her persona. Old and new anger started to creep into her again, running through her body like fire being fed with oil “Do not presume that I haven't! Because those very thoughts are always in the front of my mind just after I wake up and before going to sleep. Always! Since the moment I accepted his offer!”

Hermione bared her teeth at him “And if you knew what really happened, you’ll understand that I didn’t have a choice.” Tired of being scolded she emphasized her next words by raising her voice. “Do me a favor and don’t regard me like a fucking child. Because the moment that Albus Dumbledore put me in Gryffindor and killed my parents I’m anything but! He made sure to rob me of that!”

She closed her eyes; her headache was throbbing with full strength and the exacerbated emotions weren’t helping. 

“You _had_ a choice. You will always _have_ a choice.” The man insisted.

She opened them again, this time, filled with incredulity, a mirthless chuckle escaped from her throat “Did I? When did I have a choice? The part where our Lord offered me to stay with him or just leave? Yes!! He gave me the option, alright. But really? If he were to tell you that, would you believe that rubbish? Would you be so gullible to believe that he was honest about his intentions with me? I’m not stupid” She hissed “Either I joined him or die. It doesn’t take 2 brain cells to reach that conclusion”    

Hermione internally recognized that she wasn’t being entirely honest. No matter if the Dark Lord had or hadn’t given her a choice. That day, she was driven only by the pain of betrayal and the need for retribution when she decided to take her wand from Voldemort’s hand. However, Severus didn’t have to know that. 

“I’m here because is the only thing close to living”

_‘…Not true.’_

Severus, who just kept listening to girl's rant, displayed a deep sneer on his features. This was as far as a true reaction the girl had seen on his face. She sneered at him with equal measure.

The man turned his back at the brunette and walked a few steps further from her. “Then let me ask you this…” His voice sounded cold, detached. “What are you going to do when you have Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley in front of you? Ready to defend Dumbledore and the cause they believe in.” His gazed fixed on the girl and started to approach at the brunette “Will you kill them?” He cocked his head. “Will you let them live at the price of your life?” every step he took sounded heavier and deeper at the girls’ ears

“What are you going to do?” He positioned in front of the girl.

“Answer!!” Hermione’s shoulders rapidly tense up, not expecting the sudden shout “What are you going to do?”

She really didn’t know; Hermione didn’t want to kill them. Her friendship with them might have been strained the last time she saw them, but still, she has very fond memories of them together. She hopes that when the opportunity arises, they could…Talk.

Well, that sounded stupid even in her head.

“I don’t know”

This is not fair. That she was being treated like this just because she didn’t have all the answers.

 _‘But you already have the answer…’_ A voice in the back of her mind whispered over the frontier of her conscious thoughts.

There was a time where her friends meant everything to her… Does the feeling still exist?

_‘No.’_

_‘…Yes!’_

 “What?” Asked the man.

_‘Perhaps…’_

Enough!

 “I SAID, I DON’T KNOW!!” Even the dragons and the snakes from the carved crest hissed and shrieked at her roar. The loud breathing was the only thing filling the silence. Her body started to feel very hot, she could feel how her heart was pumping blood to all her extremities.

The man was again composed and stoic, not a single trace of his earlier contempt remained. However, there was pity laying under that heavy gaze of his, something that Hermione only wanted to erase by pulling his eyes out with her own hands. 

“Then you haven’t thought of anything, but little fantasies of your petty revenge.”

Hermione denied that statement by shaking her head; her mind was a swamp trapped in strong emotions, muddling any rational thought that wanted to bring some sense into the girl. “That’s not true.” Brown eyes filled with fury looked at the figure in front of her.

“Isn’t it?” The man said, getting one step closer to the girl, now he just seemed to be having a laugh at her. “Maybe is true what they say, Mudbloods are not that bright and capable as they believe they are. You are very disappointing, Granger.”

She felt like he punched her at on the stomach, Hermione clang to every word the man just said. Her face turned numb, not aware of the pained expression of her face. Her head pounded like a drum; Her breaths suddenly became shallow and her steps wavered slightly.

Something broke inside of her, that it was clawing its way up to the surface. For a moment she thought it was her heart, but that wasn't possible. Her heart was already broken. No, this was taking place in her mind. Suddenly her headache became horribly painful.

And then everything went red.   

“Pull out your wand”

Hermione took out her wand from her sleeve and aimed it at the man.  

“Pull out your bloody wand now!” She growled.

Snape didn’t react at her bravado display. Which became more infuriating to her, she decided to motivate the wizard by throwing a stinging hex at him.

The man repelled the attack like she expected him to. Severus didn’t retaliate, but his wand was out and his feet were separated from each other.

He was ready.

“What do you think you’ll achieve with this Granger?”

She didn’t know, neither did she care.

Her feet started to move in synchrony with the movement of her arm, her casts were strong, brutish and heavy even if they were non-verbal spells. Hexes came out from her wand at the rhythm of her heart, drumming by the rage that consumed her mind and body by an equal amount.

Hermione’s steps were unpolished and sometimes wrong, the man immediately noticed it. But her magic was unrestrained and primitive compensating her inferior lack of technique with the strength of her spells.

Severus maintained at the offensive by disintegrating attacks and repelling the ones that held a large amount of force within the projectile. The explosive sounds of hexes rumbled against the hard soil and stones of the garden; dust rose from the ground forming small clouds around their bodies. The noise of bushes being severed, the explosion of nearby flowerpots and wind condensing and contracting oxygen particles became the orchestra that accompanied their fight.

The man saw the girl’s face and how out of herself she was. She bared her teeth like a feral animal ready to bite or in this case attack. The more he repelled her attacks the more her gaze became erratic and her attacks turned more destructive.

“Ignis fulgur!” Hermione roared.

 A flame with the strength of a lightning was aimed at him, Severus was barely able to physically evade the attack, the completely unexpected spell left his mind stunned for a costly spam of time as he had to roll again for the second shot, this time the veiny residues from the curse grazed his robes slashing a part of them, he rolled once more on the floor to turn of the fire growing on the lower end of the robe.    

Two things came to the man’s mind: One, he underestimated the girl’s ability to cast dark magic. Two, she wanted to kill him or at least fully maim him.  

The magical sources that granted light had long extinguished during their fight, now the bright moonlight was their only source for visibility.  

“Reducto!” Her words were closer to guttural growl than a human voice. Hermione failed again, and instead hit one of the statues holding the Malfoy crest exploding it into tiny pieces.

“Granger, what do you think you are doing?” the man hissed. That spell was meant to kill him.

She wasn’t in her right mind, that was very evident. He needed to neutralize her. Now.

He pushed himself from the thoroughly burned grass “Very well, Granger. Let’s see how do you defend yourself.”

He moved with the art and technique that only a wizard with his experience could have, favoring speed over brutish strength. Yet still, the force of his attacks was never to be underestimated, as they were perfected to break weak and middle barriers. Although his priority, for now, was not to harm the girl but to disarm her and bind her, Severus was quite ferocious with the spells.

The girl was repelling his attacks, her shield was firm and didn’t flicker when being the recipient of a strong spell, her reflexes were so sharpened that she could react with easiness at the next projectile.

His heart started to beat faster, sweat was running down his jaw; a small smile flickered on his face. Hermione fought like an equal to the wizard, almost. Severus was about to finish this feeble attempt of whatever it was.

As he prepared to break her shield, moonlight fully illuminated the girl's face, Severus hesitated. He frowned at the sight confused and marveled all at once.

Hermione’s eyes were a bright shade of amber, a far cry from her earthy brown eyes, dangerously shinning under the light and on the painted snarl of her face he saw two prominent fangs coming from her upper teeth.

It was one of those rare moments in his life where he didn’t have the explanation of such phenomena.

However, right now, it wasn’t the right moment to try to make sense out of it as Hermione was ready to shoot again. Red jets of light expelled from her wand, with brutal force and speed. Severus rapidly redirected it at the fountain, hitting the center of the crest exploding rest of the pieces, leaving no piece untouched by the destructive nature of the attack.   

The girl didn’t leave him with other option but to knock her down.

Severus positioned himself to counter-attack and calculating eyes set on her ex-student, this time though, he wasn't planning to be considerate for her well-being.

For every spell he cast, the blue lighted blasts started to burn a path on the ground and the bushes, became the recipients of his spells that Hermione reflected; the vegetation around started to lit small fires. Both witch and wizard were relentless in their attacks and even though Hermione was starting to lose ground, the determination in her gaze never wavered.  

He had to give it to the girl, none of the students at Hogwarts, or even Potter could ever last as much as she had lasted, and that was something to be respected, if not admired.

But this has to end.  

“Sectumsempra!”

That ended it. Hermione fall flat on her back.

The spell was a vicious one, Severus knew this, he created it after all. Pain like that was rarely given by his wand, it was a different sort of torture from the conventional ones.

Death by a thousand cuts.

Invisible knives cutting the victims chest and arms till he or she bleeds to death. He takes pride on his spell; it is efficient and more often than his opponents never see it coming. Giving him the fully exterminate the enemy or simply neutralize the victim till he gets what he wants. This time though, it left a sour taste in his mouth as he saw the girl twisting on the grass in agony. She refused to utter a sound but Severus could see the anguish in her face.

Regardless that she wasn’t in her right mind she needed to be taught a lesson. Severus convinced himself, that it was for her own good.

Despite the pain, Hermione’s hateful gaze on him hadn’t lost its edge, like the pain was a secondary plain right after the impulse to want to kill the man. He approached the girl and kicked the wand that was lying next to her hand, then proceeded to take it and place it in his pocket next to his.

He kneeled beside to the girl, who’s chest was rising and falling from anger and pain more than from exhaustion, his hands went to the sides of her head holding her with a firm grip. He wished to confirm what he believed his eyes were earlier deceiving him. The man anticipated to meet some resistance from the girl; he wasn’t disappointed. Hermione in her desperation tried to scratch his arms and face, even bite his hand.

“Calm down, Granger I won’t hurt you.” _Not anymore_ was left unsaid. Perhaps, it was the fact that every time she moved or took a breath seemed to hurt her even more what made her relent.   

He took a closer look, his eyes opened in surprise as if he was seeing it from the first time. Both eyes were a bright amber color, just like honey. He inspected her mandible, her teeth were all normal, except from the two sharp fangs that almost grazed her lower lips.  

Maybe this wasn’t too much of a mystery and more of rarity… Werewolves were emotional beings…Perhaps what he said…. And maybe the moon might have… How about the people who don’t fully suffer from lycanthropy but still show symptoms? Could it be that she may…?  

His mind was running so fast trying to find an explanation for such fascinating development that he never heard the steps approaching a few meters behind him,   

“Severus, what happened here?” The man turned around at neck-breaking speed. For a fleeting moment, he got the feeling in his gut that he was caught doing something terrible and unforgivable according to popular opinion.  

“What happened to her?” Hermione was barely conscious at this moment; her eyes were losing its focus and the breathing became ragged. Severus quick response was to cast on the girl the counter-spell for his attack. A white light came out of his wand slowly closing and healing the severe damage, leaving no evidence behind of its nasty effects. However, the counterspell was only designed to cure what damage had his invented spell had done. The small scratches on the girl’s cheek and hands were still there, he needed to treat those separately.

Another flick of his wrist accompanied with mumbled words and Severus put her to sleep.

 “Severus?” The man hesitated a few more seconds before standing up. The last thing he wanted was to reveal a secret that didn’t belong to him.

“We were dueling.” He said. “Why are you here, Narcissa?”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow while crossing her arms over her chest. “The elf told me there were wizards fighting in the garden” The woman hid back her wand under her sleeve. She took a good look at the wizard in front of her. His hair was unusually disheveled, drops of sweat ran all the way to his chin. The vest and lower part of his pants had dirt spots; The robe got most of the damage as it was partially burned at the lower end.

“And why did you come? Why no Lucius?”

Narcissa didn’t appreciate the distrust in his voice. “Lucius and the others are out” She replied with a clipped tone.

“Draco?”

“Sleeping”

Her gaze set on the girl once again. “What happened?” Narcissa thought that if she were to find another man hurting the girl as he did, she would probably hex them then asks question later. But Severus wasn’t that kind of man. She knows him. Yet still, she won’t be taken for a fool. It was very evident the man wanted to lie to her.     

Severus attention drifted pass Narcissa, seeing all the damage they did to the terrain made him released a tired sigh. “I’ll explain. But first, allow me to take her inside.” He took the girl in his arms.

 Narcissa only nodded, moving aside to let Snape pass before her, the smell of smoke and sweat lingered behind the two bodies as they moved. Before following the man, the blonde turned her gaze once more at her garden in ruins, making a mental note to instruct the gardening elves to repair everything tomorrow and to send a letter to the design enchanter for another family crest. As she was about to turn back, she caught a whiff of something roasted, were it not for she already had dinner, the smell could have awakened her appetite. Blue eyes scanned the area looking for the source. Was someone eating nearby? The question lasted less than 3 seconds, with five tentative steps towards the rose bushes Narcissa found the answer

The Malfoy matriarch stayed still, her eyebrows knitted at the sight of two peacocks laying charred on the ground, considering how they were positioned they were caught while mating. Now it seemed that their flesh had melted together, the longer ends of their now darkened feathers still sustained small flames, smoke came from their bodies which carried around the objectively delicious smell.

She blinked twice before cursing under her breath “Maybe we shouldn’t have any animals while she is here.” She turned back and walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to believe that Hermione has anger issues. 
> 
> Alright, this is it, let me know what do you think the comments.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes were made, I apologize for them.

_Today was the hottest day ever registered in London, the temperature outside was almost 36°C. and to the house inhabitant’s dismay, the Air Conditioner’s engine was broken. Hermione cleaned the sweat from her brow for what it felt the tenth time in the last 5 minutes, her shirt was clinging to her skin, soaked by sweat, and her legs felt clammed as if they were smeared with glue and adhered to each other. Not knowing what else to do, but try to ignore the uncomfortable sensations, her brown eyes drifted once again to the book on the kitchen table, Hogwarts: A History. Might as well do some light reading in such a warm day._

_Her mother commenced humming a tune while she washed the dishes, only a few steps away from Hermione. The song sounded familiar yet she couldn’t exactly pinpoint where she heard it before. She lifted her head to watch at her mother as if by looking at her would help her recognize the song. She was sure she had heard it somewhere, maybe on the street or the in the supermarket. There was something comforting in that tune. After a few seconds she gave up and her gaze fell once more at the book; which wasn’t on the table anymore._

_Weird. She could swear she was reading a book just a moment ago._

_‘The sweetness of this new-found peace, more precious than gold ~Hmm… Hm~ The tender compassion that gives elation as we behold…’ Her heart swelled with joyful nostalgia as she finally recognized the lyrics. She remembers now, that was the song her mom and her dad used to sing to her before bedtime when she was a little. How could she have forgotten?_

_Hermione smiled at the memory of how her dad used to raise the tone of his voice to overshadow her mom’s, arguing that he sang better than her mom, which actually it was all the contrary, he could not even hold a note to save his life._

_Where was he at, anyway?_

_‘He went to… I don’t know.’ Hermione wondered why couldn’t she remember where he was at; she tried to think the last time she saw him. Was it this morning? Or yesterday before going to sleep?_

_She cleaned the sweat on her forehead once more, the small drops running down her back made it difficult to concentrate._

_‘Hermione… Hermione!’ Her mother was moving her hand in front of her to get her attention._

_‘Oh, sorry mom, what’s up?’ The girl said, getting out of her thoughtful daze._

_She was probably making a funny face because her mom cocked her head and chuckle. ‘What’s got you so lost in thought?’_

_‘I- I don’t know’ She slightly frowned._

_‘Is it because of that boy? What’s his name?’_

_No, she actually can’t remember what she was thinking seconds ago._

_‘Ah, Ronald. You fancy him, isn’t that right?’ A genuine smile formed on her mother’s lips._

_‘What? No!’ Hermione replied, making an exaggerated face of disgust. She even found the mere suggestion ridiculous._

_‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell your dad, you know how overprotective he can get’ Her mother said as she dried her hands on the apron, then she unhurriedly removed it and hanged it on one of the lower cabinet’s handle._

_‘Mom, trust me I’m not thinking about boys. Especially not Ronald.’ Ronald is a friend… and Harry too was… is a friend. Hermione frowned, feeling the anxiety manifesting in her body. Why thinking about them made her feel suddenly so uncomfortable?_

_Her mother stepped closer, a sad smile painted on her face ‘You know, I see sometimes these flashings of nostalgia in your eyes… A sadness that is hidden beneath them. I wish you would tell me what is going on in your life' Tender hands cupped her cheeks, equally browns eyes connected with hers. ‘Oh my, aren’t you all grown up? You have become such a beautiful woman, Ladybug.’ Hermione pressed her hands over her mother’s, she loved the tender touch of her mother’s hand, it made her feel as if all her problems could just fade away just by being held by her mother._

**_I have so much I need to tell you, mom..._ **

_‘Thanks, mom’ A knot formed on her throat, blocking the words she wished to say but didn’t know how to._

_‘Anyway, I know that you sometimes miss Hogwarts, so I invited someone for dinner.’ Her mom spoke, being none the wiser of Hermione’s emotions, she took one step back breaking the embrace. ‘Don’t ask who is it, is a surprise.’ She winked at her._

_Before Hermione could ask who was it, the doorbell ringed._

_‘Oh, he must have arrived early.’ Her mother quickly stepped outside the kitchen; Hermione followed her._

_‘He? He better not be Ronald!’ Hermione muttered, watching her mother opening the door. A wide welcoming smile appeared on her mother’s features, moving aside to let the figure at the door to step inside. As soon as she saw him, Hermione stopped breathing. The sight of him made her blood turn cold in an instant. His eyes connected with hers, warm and tender eyes blue eyes filled with melancholy ‘Hello, Hermione.’ The old man said like he was greeting an old friend, but it was the fondness in his voice what painfully twisted Hermione’s gut._

_An invisible hand was squishing her heart as it was a foam ball. She cast a frantic glance at her mother ‘Mom stay away from him!’_

_Her brows furrowed ‘Why? Isn’t he your headmaster?’_

_‘Do what I say. NOW!’ she barked._

_Her mother didn’t have a chance to react further as Dumbledore shot a spell with such force that her body was launched across the living room like a rag doll. The shout of despair was muffled by the sound of a skull cracking against the wall, painting a wide line of red all the way to the floor. Hermione’s feet attempted to sprint towards her mother’s body, but as she looked down devil’s snare started to grip her feet rapidly creeping onto her legs._

_Dumbledore turned his body and aimed his wand at her._

_‘I’m so sorry, my dear’ said the man regrettably, pain and sorrow in his ice-blue eyes. ‘It is for the greater good…’_

_A jarring painful scream, enough to destroy her vocal cords, came out from her throat. ‘I will kill you Dumbledore, I swear on my life, that the last thing you’ll see will be me sending you to the bloody fucking void’ By now the roots were gripping her neck and arms ‘You fucking bastard!!’ Hermione roared, taking the last shallow gasps of air before the veiny roots closed her windpipe._

_Her eyes were instantaneously blinded by the intensive white light invading the room._

* * *

 

Hermione’s muscles jolted up, her eyes opening instantly. The disoriented feeling lasted for a few seconds before recognizing the place. She sat on the bed with her head resting between her hands. Sweat tickled a line from her temple running all the way to the tip of her nose, falling into her lap.

Her eyes were hazy. Far off. Slowly, she swallowed, her throat working to bring her voice back. Or maybe to keep herself from vomiting. “Merlin… It felt so real.” Her whisper filled the silence in the room.

A painful sob escaped her lips. _‘… Mom’_ The heels of her palms rested against her eyes, willing to hold the tears that wanted to spill.

She promised herself to never cry again. And instead, she vowed to take her grief and sorrow and turn them into strength and will for retribution.

The turmoil in her stomach, although lessened, still gripped her gut firmly. She knew she had nightmares. Often, she’ll wake up in the middle of the night with her heart beating fast, but seldom she remembered them. This time though, she remembered every detail. She threw herself on the pillows again; her mind began reeling all the details of the dream. 

 “I will kill you… I will kill you… I will kill you…’” She repeated like a mantra. Foggy brown eyes looked at the distance thinking about how she’ll murder him. She’ll place all the pain he caused her and then multiply it with a Cruciatus curse, it’ll melt his brain so fast that the Longbottoms won’t hold a candle next to him. Multiple visions of bloody murder passed through her mind, the thoughts and images felt comforting as the fear in her body was slowly releasing its grip on her body.

The brunette opened her eyes again, staring at an invisible point on the ceiling for what it felt hours. Her thoughts were so muddled that she couldn’t make sense of the abstract feelings and ideas that transited in her unconscious mind, but never becoming conscious, only lurking behind the curtains of her Ego.

Several minutes later, Hermione groaned out loud, her contemplative state interrupted by the unmistakable feeling of her imprint symptoms. Reluctantly, she stood up from the bed taking hurried steps towards the small chest, where she kept her potions and ingredients. Her hands were fumbling between many flasks in search of the right vials. When she found them, she hastily took two recipients and brought them her lips, she drank until the dark brown liquid dribbled and slick over her chin. A wiping palm passed over her mouth and chin. It was better to take precautions by taking two bottles at a time, considering that from now on, she will see Bellatrix daily, unsure of how long this routine will last; she wasn't about to take her chances.

There was a white parchment on her desk with a potion bottle and next to it her wand sat on the table next to her. Hermione quickly to take notice, she grabbed the note; it was Severus writing. **‘You had a fever yesterday. Drink the draught, it’ll help. We need to talk tonight. Be available. -S.S.’**

 _“Fever?… What happened?”_ Hermione blinked in confusion.

It was at that moment when the brunette realized she couldn’t recall any memory of how did she end up in her room. The girl’s first reaction was to look around, searching for a clue that could tell her the sudden lack of memory. She would be quick to blame it on alcohol if yesterday was full moon. But that wasn’t the case, her werewolf transformation wasn’t due for another 20 days.  Or, 19?

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, trying to recall what happened. Her eyebrows furrowed as short moments of their conversation flashed in front of her.

‘… _Mudbloods are not that bright and capable as they believe they are. You are very disappointing, Granger...’_

She pursed her lips, but they were slightly open and loose, perplexity was taking place in her mind. “I attacked him…?” Sounding incredulous.

More images came flooding, both hands went to the top of her head as if it will help her assimilate the incoming scenes. Her eyes darting wildly with each passing second, the past events simmering through her consciousness.

She remembers feeling different, being full of anger that her heart pounded so hard against her ribcage as her pulse pressed outward, jerking her veins from within. Her body had moved and acted with only one goal in mind: To kill him.

It was like someone else took control of her body.

A small twinge of fear pierced across her lungs, right after Hermione took in the last memory she could recall. Desperate hands fumbled to remove her nightgown, almost ripping it in the process when the bottoms just wouldn’t come out, discarding the garment on the floor, the brunette quickly approached to the Cheval mirror.

Anxious eyes looked for any trace of injury on her breasts and taut stomach. Her hands caressed her body looking for any protuberance or any abnormality. She turned around to inspect her back and ribs, the only scars were the one on her side that hasn’t fully healed yet and the one in her right shoulder. The rest of her skin felt soft to the touch, nothing seemed abnormal.

The breath she had been holding for a long minute finally escaped from her lungs. Maybe she dreamed of it then? Perhaps that part wasn’t true. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she immediately discarded it. No, it did happen.

Her eyes became wider in realization. The robes.

If that happened, her robes might show it. She took a look at several surfaces around the room. It took her less than two seconds for her eyes to set on the dirty robes folded on a sofa. She rushed towards the pile of clothes and rapidly unfolded them. The clothes were tattered, scrapes of dirt and dried grass were stuck on them. Needless to say, the material was beyond repair.

 “I tried to kill him… And the bastard sliced me.” She murmured.

She stared at the clothes for a long span of time before letting her fingers going through the long slits on her robes and shirt.

“… 34...36...40… 45… 50” 50 cuts all over her torso. Impressive.

Hermione stayed still in silence watching the only evidence of yesterday events; The early twinges of anxiety had died within her body, now that she had the answer.

She sat on the sofa, enjoying briefly the sensation of the velvety material on her naked back and thighs, her body was slowly sinking further into the cushions. Brown eyes slightly narrowed and most of the muscles in her face tensed up; it was the same look she always had when trying to read a highly complex book. A mix between speculative and analytic, which was the biggest indicative from an outsider's perception that her mind was running at full speed.    

 A few minutes had passed when a self-contained snort escaped from her lips, the short dry sound quickly morphed into an increasingly joyful laugh.

The amused laugh became into a burst of hysterical laughter. Her shoulders shook and her abdomen expanded and contracted at the effort. The thunderous sound vibrated within the vials and glass recipients on the tea table. As her stomach started to ache, the laugh slowly died down. Tears that threatened to run along her cheeks were dried out with her fingers.

“I was so mad, that I wanted to kill him…” She said with awe in her voice. Things between them escalated so fast that she couldn’t even find a justifiable reason to explain why she did what she did. But whatever was her drive behind it, Hermione couldn’t care less, her mind was occupied by other thoughts.

There was excitement at the revelation this experience had brought to her. Ever since she became a werewolf for every duel she had, it gave her insight and knowledge for the next duel. This was the type of evidence she needed to prove to herself that she was getting stronger than ever before. To have the pleasure to fight Severus with her full strength, and have him work for her defeat it provided her with new knowledge about the man’s capabilities and reaction time.

Now she had experienced a taste of Severus’s method, the next time, if there was one, she won’t go down so easily.

She couldn’t trust him, not yet. For all she knew, the man could switch loyalties in the blink of an eye. It would reckless of her to not be wary of the man.

Being honest with herself, Hermione wasn’t blind to the man’s recent attitude. Considering what they talked about yesterday, Severus seemed to have, what he believed, her best interest at heart.

But for how long?  

 _‘The implications of following this path will have devastating consequences, Severus is right about that little part.’_ Hermione thought, replaying the last parts of the conversation they shared.

Was she willing to kill innocent people? No, she wasn’t. But like many things, to Hermione, it was all a matter of semantics. Define innocent. Are they participants of the war? If someone is willing to kill for what they believe is the right cause, doesn't make them innocent.

A half-smile formed on her lips. The sense of pride came to her as she relived the conversation between them. Hermione was amazed at how easily the words rolled out of her tongue as if she was truly living with the guilt and anxiety of not knowing what to do.  

She lied to him. At least one specific part.  

The truth was that after and before closing her eyes, the thoughts in her mind are of her parents and their time together, or Dumbledore dead at her feet.

Nothing else.

She hasn’t spared a single well-formed thought about her friends for what it felt a very long time, neither has she been pondering over the consequences that this war will bring her. She had purposely ignored it because in reality the only options for a peaceful solution in her mind could only be described as unrealistic wishful thinking.

The Lord wanted Harry dead, and there was nothing she could do about it without risking her own life. Or her goal.  

Snape was right once again, she only had tunnel-vision for her need for retribution.

“Nothing escapes him…” Just like a good Slytherin, she supposed.

Damn snakes.

Which all this, brought her again to her first question. Could she trust the man? The short answer was no. Severus hasn’t made clear where he stands.       

Time will tell whether they’ll end up on the same side of the war.

Probably they won’t.

She took a glance at the watch; it was still early. A long bubble bath before breakfast sounded fantastic. Maybe she’ll even finish the Maledictuses book while she dips her body in hot water.

She cast one last look to the tattered robe before fully disintegrating it. She loved that robe; she recently found the dark grey color suit her well. The girl did a mental note to send the elves to buy a new model.

Hermione approached at the bathroom's door when a sudden thought started to take shape.

The last thing she remembers was wearing those robes. Then, how did she arrive here? And more importantly who put her into her sleeping robes? 

While removing the last garment of her body, she considered that Snape might have done it. Who else?

Maybe tonight she’ll just greet him with the killing curse, Hermione considered.    

* * *

 

Thick grey clouds loomed up in the sky, claiming that rainy season was far from over. The wind blew among the tall trees behind the Malfoy mansion, the falling leaves were carried and placed carefully on the ground by the soft breeze. Hermione crossed the low step that divided the end of the mansion’s quartzite floor and the beginning of the garden. Unlike the rest of the mansion’s gardens, this place had seen better days. Since the Death Eaters had been using it as a training grounds, the place was in shambles. Whenever they felt the necessity to hone their dueling skills or to settle a score, they came to this place. Hermione avoided to approach the place more often than not, she didn’t wish to interact with the sometimes-undesirable visitors.

The brunette looked around the clearing, large extensions of grass and bushes were burned. Although it was an open space, Hermione could still detect the lingering smell of something earthly, almost close to the smell of petrichor but not quite right. 

What probably used to be classy statues, now they were basically pulverized, only chunks of stone remained left on the ground. The place seemed empty, with no signs of the obnoxious black-haired woman. She took out her watch out her pocket; it was midday already. Either the woman was busy, or more likely she was deliberately late with the only purpose to annoy her.

Hermione, being one to never stay still, took the woman’s tardiness as an opportunity to warm up.

Wasting no time, she raised her wand, several small stones levitated from the ground. With a delicate inclination of her wrist, the stones lined up one next to the other. One trust to the left and Hermione had the stones moving at her will, the clicking sounds like marbles rubbing against each other rode across the clearing as her spell curled and coalesced around her body making different serpentine motions as someone would do with a streamer. She moved it up, down and all around her body, drawing different shapes in the air.

Her eyebrows knitted in deep concentration, ready to take the next step. Slowly, she lifted her left hand matching the height of the right one. She gazed at the ground and as her left hand extended, small stones commenced to slowly vibrate, with snatching motion, multiple stones gravitated towards the already lined up rocks. Now, the rocky streamer was twice as large. With the tip of her boots, Hermione painted half-moons and full circles on the ground, while her wand made the stones dance around her. To the untrained eye, watching those half turns and feet being dragged and doing spirals with the levitating rocks as if she was dancing, it was easy to assume that the girl was just playing.

In reality, she was gaining momentum. 

Satisfied with the speed she had reached, Hermione turned abruptly and with a sharp thrust forward the stones were expulsed at an incredible speed towards the trees behind the clearing, the firsts stones furiously penetrated the wood with ease, like bullets that came out from a Muggle weapon. The strength of the spell quickly decayed, making most of the stone to fall on the ground.

Curious to see how much damage she had achieved, the girl approached at the targeted tree. Inquisitive eyes set on the hole, surveying its radius. The brunette placed the wand inside the hole; it went half before meeting what was surely the stones lined up.

Half wand deep. Enough to hurt someone seriously, but highly in practical in a fight if it takes that much time to prepare. That is why she’d only used as a warm-up, it helped her practice finesse, multitasking, and strength all at once.

Hermione noticed something else on the tree, it seemed that someone had used the trees as targets as well. Her eyes narrowed with interest at the unusual carvings on the tree’s bark. There were deep slashes on many of them, wider and deeper. She ran her hand all over the cuts, her little finger could enter between the gaps. There wasn’t any spell she could think about to fit the description that can do this type of damage. It was probably a multiple slashing spell cast with such precision that hit on the same place over and over again. No, that didn’t sound right, slashing spells rely too much on wand movement and strength. Every time it is cast, it leaves a different cut and angle.

Well, whatever it was, seemed very powerful.   

“Ossum Incido.”

Hermione slowly turned her back to see Bellatrix a few steps behind her, her arms were crossed and her weight rested on one foot. The brunette wondered how long has she been standing there, looking at her. How weird it was that she didn’t hear coming. After all, the gravel is loud when someone steps on it, especially with her boots.

Did she apparate then? No, she would have heard it.

How strange…

 “What is that?” The girl asked, not fully understanding what the woman meant.

“The marks you are so suddenly so enamored with, are from my spell Ossum Incido. I created it," Pride flickered in the obsidian eyes while contemplating the vicious lines across the bark. “It still needs to be perfected.” She added, her nose trusting on the air. “But I already have the baseline, I just need to come up with a formula to have better control over it.” 

“Why not just maximize the effect of the slashing spell?” Hermione asked, curiosity clear in her tone.

“Because is not meant to break the skin.” A half smile formed on her lips; the effect would be chilling if Hermione wasn’t familiar with Bellatrix’s moods. 

Curiosity being the weakness of the girl, she could not help but ask. “Then what?” Bellatrix stepped closer to another tree, not before sparing a glance at the girl. Hermione, understanding that the woman wanted to show her something, stepped closer too.

“It was created to cut bone, without breaking the skin.” Slim fingers pushed into the bark, penetrating it. The fingers ran from top to bottom scrapping the bark, leaving the hollow gaps visible for Hermione to see.  

_‘Oh wow…Let not be said that Bellatrix isn’t creative when it comes to torture’_

The girl realized how often she forgets that the woman before her is regarded as one of the most brilliant witches in the wizardry community. How was that Dumbledore called it? The most brilliant witch of her generation? A title that Albus was certain Hermione holds nowadays.

“Do you have a counterspell?”

“Now why would I need that?” The dark witch bobbed her head, displaying annoyance at what she seemed to think was a stupid question.

“You want it for torture, right?” Bellatrix's incisive eyes looked at her expectantly. “If a broken bone is left untreated for a certain extension of time, blood clots will form in the blood vessels, which becomes fatal. If you are done with your questioning, then is fine, they’ll die. But if you are not…”

“How much time before that happens?” Bellatrix’s features became serious, almost thoughtful. Hermione’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline as she realized this was the first time the woman was actually listening and considering her words. Perhaps, this could be considered a small victory.

“Depends on where you make the cut.” She explained. “For example, the hip bone is actually one of the most delicate parts besides the spine, there are too many arteries running there. I’ll prefer to make the cut at the arms and lower legs. That is if you want them to live longer. You don’t only have to consider that, but also the gap is too wide, you would remove a large piece of bone, which could be very hard to reconstruct with a counterspell or even worse cut an important vein and you’ll kill them immediately.”

Bellatrix wasn't looking at her anymore, but the fact that she hadn’t opened her mouth to say a snide remark, told Hermione that the woman was really listening to her.

A few moments passed between them. Brown eyes observed the dark witch being lost in her own mind, the woman's eyes darting to different markings on the tree.

Besides from her rare mellowed attitude, there was something different in Bellatrix today, Hermione perceived. She just couldn’t tell what was exactly.

“Can I ask what principle are you using for your casting?” Hermione asked, finally breaking the silence between them. Something she immediately regretted when Bellatrix gave her patented annoyed look.

“The ‘None of your business principle’.” The dark witch drawled. “You are a little know-it-all, aren’t you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the childish reply. _‘No, no victory at all’_ seeing how the woman was going back to her normal self. Bellatrix chose that instant to face the girl, her features quickly morphed from annoyance to disgust. “And what are you supposed to be wearing?”

“Clothes.” The girl said innocently, perfectly understanding what was she referring to.

“Those are muggle clothes, stupid girl. Are you trying to insult the Lord?” Her tone turned slightly sharp.

“No,” The girl said. “But I don’t think our Lord would mind.” Shrugging her shoulders.  “He has seen me wearing muggle clothes before; never said anything.” She replied not nonchalantly, knowing it’ll anger the woman.

Bellatrix’s scowl deepened, crossing her arms over her chest. “Tell me, mudblood. Why suddenly he is so interested in you?”  The disdain in her tone was present. However, Hermione could detect the question had a layer of curiosity under the tangible disgust.

 _‘Why suddenly he is so interested in me, that he has ordered her Lieutenant to train me?’_ That was the correct question Bellatrix wanted to ask, or so Hermione thought. The fact that the woman was being kept in the dark about her presence made her uneasy. Voldemort promised not to reveal her connection to Bellatrix, that was a verbal agreement they had. Everything else wasn’t needed to be kept a secret.  And yet, the man has shared nothing about this with his most trusted Lieutenant.

_‘Why would that be?’_

He may be planning something, a thought that Hermione has been pondering more often. 

'Could this be related to why he is pairing me with Bellatrix?'

“I really don’t know, Lestrange.” She firmly said, trying to convey utmost sincerity with her words. Hermione knew she wasn’t the only one who could detect lies, Bellatrix had proved to have a more refined radar she’ll ever possess. “I have been completing the tasks he gave me, just like you do. I really don’t know what else to tell you.” 

For a few moments, they only stare at each other. Onyx eyes studied the center of her face as if she was somehow holding more answers to unasked questions.

Hermione paid attention to Bellatrix’s body language; her usual aggressive demeanor was still very much there. But the snarl on the woman’s face every time she set eyes on her wasn’t there, the disgust wasn’t that strong either. For the outsider’s perspective, this looked more like a small fight between acquaintances than the actual hate that has been simmering between them since day one.

No matter what, she still despised the woman. But if they could keep things slight civil, she was willing to do the sacrifice. Merlin knows it’ll save her a lot of energy and time.

Bellatrix must have seen the truth on the girl’s face, considering how her own features relaxed, looking less intimidating, rather her red lips curled into a sarcastic little smile. “Is he fucking you?”

Hermione first reaction was to release a burst of laughter, followed by continued laugh muffled by the back of her hand. “Merlin, no!” She sounded between incredulous and slightly appalled “Not to my knowledge, no” Her smiled widened at the sight of the woman’s light acid expression. She was probably slightly disappointed that she didn’t get the desired effect on her, which was to rile her up.

 _‘How bizarre can this get?!’_ Hermione wondered if she was the only of both who thought this interaction was just plain abnormal. This is not how people normally behave, but then perhaps herself and Bellatrix fell into a new category all of her own.

Aware that they have been extending this long enough, Hermione took out her wand “How about we focus on why we are here instead of you fixating in my wardrobe tastes?”

At this, Bellatrix reacted with complacency “Eager, aren’t you, little mudblood? Very well.”

Bellatrix turned around and took short steps towards the center of the clearing, Hermione wondered for a second if they would duel. What if she wasn’t able to attack her? despite having drunk a double dose. Too late to ask, as she will soon find out.

The brunette was about to follow the woman when right after she took the first step forwards, Bellatrix abruptly turned around with her wand aiming at the girl. Giving almost no chance to react, the older woman cast the first spell. Hermione conjured a protection spell by reflex, but she failed to conjure it thick enough; it was quickly shattered by Bellatrix’s red-lighted spell. Hermione was pushed back from the strong impact. She tried to recover her balance by stepping back, lowering her guard for a moment. The next swift of woman’s wand was to cast binding ropes which rapidly sneaked and tightened around the girl’s legs and torso.    

Hermione lost her balance, falling on her side. “What are you doing?!” Her voice tried to come out as angry, but the high-pitched sound gave away more surprise than anything else.

Hermione’s heart rate slightly increased as Bellatrix approached at her, thinking all the things that could go wrong in the next seconds. She struggled with the binds on her body, trying to release at least one arm, and reach for her wand a few centimeters from her.

Bellatrix put her wand in her holster as she approached the girl, with a wave of her hand she caught the upcoming wand with her left hand.

The woman clicked her tongue, lightly shaking her head in mocking disappointment. “Pathetic. I have seen elves wielding magic better than you.” She said, playing with Hermione’s wand between her fingers. 

“What are you playing at, Lestrange?” Hermione didn’t want to imagine how pathetic she must look right now, struggling on the ground. Trying and failing miserably on giving a dignified look.

The dark witch has been smirking all this time, enjoying the obvious distress on the girl. “If you ever get caught, like right now, you have to learn how to escape, that’s why you must know how to swing your finger.” The dark witch took the brunette’s hand out of the binds, giving her enough freedom to move.

“Wandless magic? While being tied? You must be joking!” Feeling outraged at the mere suggestion.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Her features became dark and mischievous. “I agreed to teach you, that means you play by my rules and methods.”   

“If you said that I’m so terrible at magic, why would you ask me to do something almost impossible?” Hermione glowered.

Bellatrix snickered. “Fishing for compliments, mudblood?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Not having a clue of what the woman was talking about.

 “Escape from Incarcerous, you should know the counterspell, don’t you?” the woman said, fully ignoring her question. Using Hermione’s wand, Bellatrix levitated the girl. “And then Arresto Momentum or you might as well break some bones with the fall.” Her legs kicking in the air as if somehow will help her fight against the levitation spell. The woman continued lifting her in the air, the tied her up in one of the tree’s high branches.

“What?!” Hermione screeching, not believing what she was asking of her. “That’s not! How the hel-…” But she was interrupted by the unexpected explosion on the nearby branches, caused by Bellatrix. Leaves and pieces of wood fell on her hair.

Bellatrix cackle loudly at the stunned expression of the girl’s face “Do you want to add a silence spell as well, so it can be non-verbal and wandless magic?”

Hermione clenched her jaw almost instantly; she knew the woman would make good on her promise if she as much were to open her mouth.

“That’s what I thought, good mudblood.” Bellatrix gave a patronizing look, the smile never wavering from her lips “Don’t worry, I’ll give it back once you are down. Ta-ta”

Bellatrix walked away, quickly disappearing from Hermione’s hateful gaze. The brunette made one last attempt to release herself from the ropes by wiggling and shaking, but all attempts were futile.  

Hermione was furious, wishing more than ever that she could hurt Bellatrix Lestrange, cursing her wolf a thousand times more for imprinting on that thing.

* * *

 

Gawain Robards was probably having the worst days of his entire career as Head Auror. The Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has been breathing down his neck since The Dark Lord has been officially recognized as a real threat. But these days the pressure on him has worsened, all because the incident of the northern islands has reached the ears of all citizens of wizardry Britain. Giving the heinous nature of the murders and some leaked information published none by other than Rita Skeeter, Fudge had had he and his investigation team working non-stop for the last 48 hours to get answers.

The fact that the investigation team doesn’t have concise results so far, his high officials are urging them to find an answer as soon as possible, and let’s not forget about the Newspapers, the leeches are all over him from the moment he leaves his house all the way to the Ministry. All this added several layers of tension on his shoulders. At this rate, the man was on the verge to return to his alcoholism.

But today’s morning was the cherry on top. His wife threatened him with divorce and taking their son with her. Her reason behind it: he wasn’t at home anymore.

Sometimes, the only peace he could find was when he slept, which hasn’t been doing much of that, actually.

His heavy steps stopped in front of the investigation office, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened the door.

“Williams, please tell me there is good news.” Although the voice sounded commanding and authoritative, there was a faint undertone of begging behind it.

A red-haired woman, who was taking notes next to a scorched body on the table, stood up addressing her boss. “Actually, we do, sir. We have finally managed to identify the burned body.”

“Burned? I’ll say calcinated.” The man behind her muttered, he had a tidy scholarly bearing, only emphasized by thick-framed lenses he pushed further into his nose, while he was looking at what appeared to be several hairs.

“He is the newest member.” The woman said, feeling the necessity to explain.  “Anyway, by the collection of hairs we took from the cabin’s bed, we used a Polyjuice potion and the body that took form was from Igor Karkaroff. We matched the size and height of the body here.” She reached for her parchment containing all her notes and gave it to his boss. “Is definitely him.”

“Are you sure?” The man was speedily reading all her analysis.

“Yes, is all there.”

For several moments the man only stares into the body, most likely absorbing the information. However, the woman misunderstood his silence by confusion. “He is an ex-death eat-“

“I know damn well who he is!” He interrupted harshly. “I interrogate him myself at the end of the first war.”

The woman closed her mouth feeling embarrassed.

“This indicates that our suspicions may be accurate. This was the work of death eaters, after all.”

She nodded “I believe so, sir.”

Although it was a step in the right direction, the weight on his shoulders became heavier. Cornelius was about to have a shit show on his hands, but who would be sent to clean it up but himself.

“What took you so long? And where are the others?”

 “I’m sorry, sir but we had to separate hundreds of hairs. Most of them belonged to animals.” She sounded apologetical. “Sometimes what we considered was a human hair happened to be wolf's fur or wildcats. And the rest of us went home to sleep, they are bound to come around after midday.” Then she made an awkward pause “They hadn’t slept in the last 40 hours.” 

He stayed silent for a moment, although he felt highly frustrated, he could recognize that his subordinate was right. He needed his team with a clear mind, now more than ever.

Even though the search for the perpetrator or most likely perpetrators had narrowed significantly, that didn’t bring him any sort of reassurance. He knew it’ll very unlikely to catch whoever did this, for what he knows dead eaters were the elite group from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Hard to catch one, less making them speak.   

 “Wait, wait I think I have something.” The man in the back spoke excitedly, raising his hand as if he was still talking to a teacher instead of his boss.  

“What is it?” Williams asked, taking large steps towards his table. 

“Hairs. Bring a Polyjuice potion, wait no bring two.” The woman walked towards the cabinet further in the back. The boy pushed his glasses up his nose once again, the tiredness of his eyes was diminished by the excitement flashing on them. The Head Auror gave him a questioning look, indicating him to further explain himself.

“When we collected the bodies, we picked up all the discarded items on the floor, we thought this piece belonged to any of the victims.” signaling at the dark fabric “But this is a very expensive cloak, handmade crafted; you cannot find those in the north. The only shops supplying this type of fabric are in London. So, I examined it and found two different types of hair none of it belonging to any of the victims.”

Williams put the two vials on the table. “Ready?” The intern noted and with extreme cautiousness, with a small pair of tweezers he placed two different strands of hair in each bottle.

Robards watched them expectantly, his posture was rigid, the stiffness on his face and his fist closed spoke volumes of the present apprehensiveness in his body.

“I know I should have asked you before, but are you sure these are human hairs?” The woman asked wearily.

“Absolutely!” The intern nodded fervently.

Each one took a vial and gulped down; the effects started to show almost immediately.

Robards saw the morphing of the bodies with anxiety creeping further into his body, his eyes were fixed on Williams which body started to change faster than her college. His face hardened, understanding where was this going when he saw the first glimpses of curled black hair replacing the red hair of the woman in front.

The first reaction that anyone with a sense of justice must have when having Bellatrix Lestrange in front, is to cast the killing curse at her, no questions asked. At least, that’s what Robards have always thought. To see her in front of him almost made him automatically want to reach for his wand.

Williams, still ignorant of her appearance, she turned around to see the other figure next to her. The intern was gaping at her, with eyes wide open in between fear and amazement. She mouthed a silent _‘What?’_ but her partner couldn’t get out of his bewilderment.

The woman took in the new intern's appearance, she blinked several times, eyes narrowing a little. “You look familiar, I think I have seen that face before.”

“You saw her in the newspapers,” Gawain spoke, automatically. His eyes darting from one figure to the other.

Faux Bellatrix clasped her fingers, finally recognizing the person. “Yes!... But I thought she was dead.” The woman said, slightly puzzled.

“Apparently, she came back to the world of the living.” The Head Auror said, he seemed to be nonplussed by this new revelation. With both hands he rubbed his face, feeling that from here on out, things were just going to go south before they could go up.

“Maybe she wasn’t dead but kidnapped?” She theorized.

Robards didn’t believe that for a second, they didn’t know Lestrange as he did. The woman was a psychopath, she wouldn’t leave anyone alive if there wasn’t a good reason. No, a hunch told him that this ran deeper than he could ever guess right now. He needed to research more before attempt to speculate. “Bring me every file, every paper you can find about her and send it to my desk.” He didn’t wait for a reply, turning his body around he walked towards his private office. “This case is getting more complicated by the second.” Silently praying they could withhold the information a little longer before the newspapers got wind of their recent discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, this is it for now. Tell me what you think, like it or hate it let me know. For the time being, I'll go back to my cave.


	11. Chapter 11

The sudden feeling of someone trying to trespass the inner borders of her locked mind interrupted Hermione’s reading. Her eyes strayed from the book in her hands and looked around for the undesirable who wished to invade her consciousness.   

It only took her half a second to spot a long snake coiled close to the divan where she was resting. Nagini rose her head almost at the same level as the girl’s height. The snake stared at her with her bright yellow eyes. If Hermione didn’t know any better, she would think that Nagini was looking at her with hungry eyes.

Sometimes the reptile was very intimidating probably without even wanting to be.

Hermione lowered her Occlumency shields, letting the raspy voice invade her mind. _“I’ve heard she is been training you.”_

 That opening line twisted the girl’s guts. She was not in the mood for the snake’s choice of topic. “Really? You heard?” Her voice was full of skepticism. “Or someone told you? And by someone, I mean our Lord.”

Unfazed by the bitter undertone, Nagini stayed silent and unmoving. Her sight never darting from the brunette’s own eyes. Hermione could hardly guess what the snake was thinking in those moments. It is one thing to read a person’s facial expressions, but to read the non-existent facial expressions of a snake, that was beyond the brunette’s abilities.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Were you aware of it? In the library, when you wished me good luck. Did you know our Lord was going to do this?”

The only response she got was Nagini’s tongue coming out her mouth in short intervals, tasting and smelling the invisible traces of nothing and everything in the room.

Hermione hated when she did that, as she understood very well what it meant.

Her eyes drifted along the snake’s body watching the tail rubbing against the rest of her own figure. A light sound of sandpaper being rubbed was the only noise between them as Nagini shed small patches of dead skin on the violet plumose carpet. Her thoughts went to Narcissa, who will surely _love_ the little gifts Nagini was leaving on it, she’ll probably pop a vein before ordering the elves to clean it immediately.

The girl sighed tiredly, rising up from the divan. She took a few steps away from Nagini, sensing the need to put some distance between them. The feeling of her earlier sour mood was creeping once again in her mind.

She spared another glance at the snake, before reaching her own conclusions. “I’ll take your silence as confirmation, then. Tell me, what is he planning?”

_“…Planning?”_ Nagini bobbed her head slightly. 

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” Her voice came out very demanding.

_“I don’t know…”_ Suddenly sounding bored and disinterested. Which only served to irk Hermione further.

The brunette released a humorless chuckle “And if you did know, you wouldn’t tell me anyway, isn’t it right?”

_“That’s correct.”_ The snake asserted with a patronizing tone.

Hands gripped the book, pushing in different directions as if the girl wanted to rip it apart. “Not even because I’m helping you…” she muttered with resentment in her voice.   

However, the moment the words left her mouth Nagini hissed loudly, proving that she had heard clearly. Hermione saw how the whole body tensed, coiling in a defensive position.   
Hands gripped the book tightly and shoulders squared, feeling her body tensed up while watching the snake’s maw fully opened, displaying a set of sharp fangs and small but equally deathly razor teeth along her mouth.

_“Is a debt you must repay. You promised it!!”_  Although the volume in Hermione’s mind wasn’t as loud like the earlier hiss, yet it sounded equally dangerous as the sight before her.

“You already made that very clear.” Hermione spat, gazing defiantly into the usually yellow, now blackened by the dilatation of her pupils.

_“Then don’t ask stupid questions!”_ Nagini responded in the same tone. _“You know better than that, Hermione!”_

Hermione bit her cheek, her eyes drifted to the floor, realizing that Nagini had never called her by name before. Her bitter mood was quickly replaced by waves of shame and contempt, she couldn’t help but feel like a scolded child. Of course, she knew better than that, Nagini would never betray Voldemort’s secrets or intentions. The snake had made that very clear since the very beginning. Apparently, she just forgot that detail for a moment.

Not knowing what to say, or likely her pride not letting her calm down and apologize, the girl turned around, then approached at the embedded wooden bookcase in the wall and placed the book from where she found it. Her fingers lingered on the shelf; brown eyes were fixed on the different almost black patterns on wood. As if suddenly the wood grain was highly interesting and worth examining.

“Why are you here?” the girl asked, looking back over her shoulder.      

_“I was already here.”_ She said, climbing over the divan where Hermione was a minute ago resting. _“Is it wrong to wish to make conversation with you?”_ Nagini closed her eyes and rolled her body where was probably the warmest spot. 

_‘Of course, she was’_ Hermione remembered that Nagini likes to take her naps in usually empty rooms, which made her wonder if the snake was the only one frequenting this room. They were in an entertainment room of sorts; books, several chessboards and a large alcohol cabinet were the main themes for diversion. Today was the first time Hermione set foot in here, motivated by the very rare mood to roam across the mansion instead of just staying in her room or the Malfoy library in the second floor as usual.

_“I could taste your grouchiness since you entered the room time ago.”_ Nagini pointed out, her tongue leaving her mouth more often and faster than she usually does. As if to remind the girl that she could sense better than any human. _“What got you in such a bad mood?”_

She hesitated for a few seconds, before seeing no sense in avoiding the question, Nagini already knew, she just wanted confirmation. “Who, rather than what. And you know very well who am I talking about.”

_“Your mate.”_

A snarl formed on the girl’s lips “DO NOT-” she yelled; her hands tightly clutched the edges of the bookcase. She was aware that the anger mixed with the emotions of minutes ago was getting the best of her once again, but to hear _that_ title right now was so appalling, to say the least. She closed her eyes, willing to push down the strong emotions that were threatening to rise up to her throat.

 “She is not my bloody…” Her tongue twisting just at the idea to pronounce that hideous word right now “Whatever, just don’t call her like that.”

_“Denying it won’t make untrue what is already a fact.”_

“Not now, please.”

_“What did she do?”_ Her voice was unusually kind. Hermione recognized this was Nagini’s way of offering the olive branch and erase the tension that had formed between them moments ago.

“She left me hanging from a branch for 3 hours…”

 

* * *

 

2 hours had passed since Bellatrix left her hanging on the branch. So far, Hermione hasn’t managed to do anything but learn how to swing properly like a pendulum, with hopes that the binds would wear off. Which, in retrospective, that wasn’t very wise. The fall from this distance could be at the very least be extremely painful.  

How humiliating was all this, Hermione thought as the vile rose through her esophagus one more time. Even though her earlier fits of anger had considerably decreased, at least enough to stop seething and cursing the dark witch, still, all her mind was able to do was to repeat their 5 seconds fight in slow motion.

After she placed the all the blame and hate on Bellatrix in the first hour, by the second hour she started blaming herself for not being smart enough to foresee Bellatrix’s attack, not strong enough to put a better shield and not quick enough to have repelled her next spell. In part, it was her fault she ended up like this.  

_‘Guess fighting Severus is not enough to beat Bellatrix, uh?’_ The same ugly voice that blamed her spoke again in the far corner of her consciousness.  

“No, I guess not.” She uttered, with no one to hear but perhaps the insects resting on the branches, not that she could see any of them. But considering her recent luck, it wouldn’t be a surprise if suddenly the caterpillars or cicadas started to confuse her with another extension of the tree.

_‘Only the most disciplined and highly trained magic practitioners can achieve such a feat.’_ Her mind parroted the last line from the preface of the book, Introduction to Wandless Magic.

Wandless magic was all consuming and highly difficult to achieve every time a new spell was being cast for the first time. Two spells in one go would take a tremendous effort on her part.

_‘Bellatrix had set me up to fail.’_

Hermione turned around to see how thick was the branch from where she was hanging, maybe she could cast a Diffindo in case Relashio didn’t work, after all, it was easier to cast Diffindo considering that it didn’t require deep concentration and could work with a little amount of magic. While she was considering alternative options, brown eyes gazed at the dark large shape that just sat between the many branches a few meters from herself, she could barely see the dark figure because the leaves blocked her sight. She squinted at what seemed to be a bird, or maybe an eagle as it was too big to be a simple bird.   

_‘Well, at least I have company…’_ Watching the large feathered animal grooming its wings. ‘ _Wow, that sounded pathetic.’_

A few seconds more passed by before the owl chose to fly again, leaving the place behind.

“Well, good riddance to you too.” The girl said, watching the bird flying past by the mansion.

_‘Anytime now.’_

If she wanted to get out of this predicament she just needed to stop feeling. To let her mind be emptied. However, every time she closed her eyes, all Hermione could see was Bellatrix laughing at her, and renew wave of anger manifested in the pit of her stomach.

Fantasies of all the many ways she could torture Bellatrix, that was the balm for her inner turmoil born from humiliation.

_‘If I don’t do it. She wins’_

Hermione closed her eyes, the first thing to do was to breathe deeply as she willed her muscles to slowly relax. To leave the built tension slowly drain from her body and only focus on the sensations that surrounded her. Ropes tightening around her figure, bruising her skin. The sensation of being suspended in the air, feeling the gravity pull in her loose limps and hair. The clean air filling her lungs, expanding her ribcage and the robes pressing further against her torso and arms.

_‘If a spell proves to be impossible to cast, is because you are either too weak or too stupid. You don’t seem to be either, Miss Granger. All you need is to have a clear mind. You must feel the magic running from your core and extending to your limps, harness it all in your right arm, then to your hand and shoot…-’_ She remembers clearly when Voldemort did teach her this method. How odd, Hermione thought, that a dark magic practitioner had a technique that needed inner calm to cast the nastiest and destructive spells he could think of.

She took another deep breath, her nostrils could sense the humidity in the air, it wouldn’t be long before it rains.

More reason to leave this place soon.

Without losing her relaxed state, her body recline left to right, till she was swinging to gain enough speed.

Then it came the magic. The electric pulse running through every mage whether they were conscious of it or not, it was always there. Magic was buzzing under her skin, sometimes it itched to get out. Another advantage of having lycanthropy in her blood, it made magic, more alive, electrifying, sharper.  It was easier to become aware of that buzzing energy running in her veins and in her muscles. Tingling from the tip of her toes to the nape of her nape, rising up all the small baby hairs on her skin.

 “Arresto Momentum” She shouted.

But nothing happened.

It wasn’t enough.

Her limbs were buzzing with energy, she could feel it now more than ever. It was there almost tangible tingling in her feet soles, all she had to do was to bend the magic to her will. She dragged the power through her legs, feeling how it was being absorbed by her coccyx rushing along her spine making its way upwards and finally concentrating all of it within her right arm.

She opened her eyes and shouted again “Arresto Momentum!”

The movement stopped.  

But her moment of victory was short lived as it only lasted half a second. It wasn’t good enough, if the spell was cast either too early or too late it could prove to be fatal.

So, she tried again, again and again.  

But after multiple intents, she failed to maintain the spell for more than one second.   

Frustrated by her lack of progress and the increasing chaffing on her skin due to the ropes. Hermione was willing to let it play it out and see what would happen. She was about to practice Relashio and hopefully be finally liberated and fall on the ground when she heard the distinctive noise of someone stepping on dried leaves. The brunette stayed silent and motionless, waiting to see who was coming.

She could clearly hear the voices of two men approaching her way.

“Don’t worry, your mother and I will do anything in our power to help you complete your task.” Hermione recognized the man’s voice, it was Lucius. Two blonde heads started to show under the trees, both dressed in robes. Hermione could barely see their faces from this angle, but the man sounded so exhausted. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the black robes meant that they were about to or they already had a meeting with Voldemort. The conversation led Hermione to believe the later.

“Thank you, father,” Draco said, although he didn’t sound as stressed as his father, there was a concerned tone on his voice. “Do you think I’ll receive the mark before going to Hogwarts?”

“I believe so, yes.” Hermione had thought that the man would be ecstatic to see his son following his steps, instead, there was a slight small waver in his voice.   

“Maybe after that, Mother would be willing to forgive you.”

Lucius released a hollow laugh, but it sounded more of a sob caught in his throat than anything else. “I don’t think your mother will be forgiving me anytime soon, Draco.”

“But it wasn’t all your fault, why isn’t our Lord punishing the rest of them…”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the nagging tone of Draco, she didn’t fully understand what was going on, but what little she has heard till now, it was something that she could not bring herself to care.

“…I just don’t understand why he had to bring all these people to our home”   

Hermione closed her eyes again, willing her mind to focus again on her body and to shut any external noise. She concentrated on the next memory.

_‘…-However, there is another way. I can see that having a clear mind won’t always work for you, isn’t it dear? Hate is the answer to those times. Keep in mind, hate cannot exist without anger, but anger can exist without hate. Be sure that what you feel is hate, as for anger is just a weak, fleeting emotion.’_

_‘A dangerous source for casting my Lord.’_

_‘It is indeed, quite addictive too. But as you already must know, hate has always been the main source for the creation of the darkest curses in existence.’_

Hermione had read multiple times the warnings against this method of casting. As the emotion itself could easily deteriorate their minds, driving them crazy. Hate and dark magic were a powerful combination, but even Voldemort used it very seldom.

Maybe only this time, Hermione told herself ready to mentally prepare. She had the perfect picture in her head, the one that would produce such strong emotion and something more in her body.

Hate, such a consuming feeling. It was like an abrasive piece cloth that every brush left deep scratches on the surface, cleaning her soul from everything that was mind and sense. Yes, she could feel it running through her veins. It tingled faster, stronger, thrumming all over her body.  

“…And let’s not even mention the mudblood.”

_‘There!’_

“Relashio!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, the ropes vanished into thin air, suddenly her body felt very light.

She waved her finger again “Arresto Momentum!” She stopped in midair, long enough for her to realize that she cast it too early and now the fall albeit less dangerous, it still was going to be very painful.

The brunette wasn’t able to do anything but to brace for the fall, protecting her head as she hit the hard ground. Hermione laid on her back grasping her stomach, the hit had knocked the wind out of her. She moaned loudly, as a feeble attempt to get her diaphragm into place again. 

 “Bloody hell.” She said, relieved to have her breath back. Her legs hurt and there was a burning sensation on her torso and arms. She tightly closed her eyes, trying to make sense what hurt the most and from there decide what to do.  

She soon heard the steps on someone coming her way. Feeling a pair of eyes looking at her, she quickly opened hers.

 “Spying on us mudblood?” Lucius spoke as he aimed his wand at her. For the second time in probably all her life, she was being levitated against her will. At least this time was just a few centimeters from the ground.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “I can think in a thousand different things I could do with my time, instead listen to your moaning.” She tried to move her arms but the spell kept her from doing it. “Release me, right now!”

The man sneered in full contempt “How impertinent. A mudblood giving me orders in my own house.”

Hermione scoffed at his words. “Funny you say that. I thought you were already used to receiving orders.” Then she grew serious, trying put her best intimidating look. “Release me now, Lucius.”

Draco who had been watching the exchange silently decided to speak “Father, I don’t think she was–”

“Not now Draco.” He quickly cut him off, his attention was focused on the girl he saw as vermin.

But whatever Lucius planned to say or do was interrupted by the approaching steps of someone else. “Ah! If it is my favorite brother in law and my dearest nephew” Bellatrix said gleefully as she approached the trio.

“A-aunt Bellatrix,” Draco said, stepping aside several steps from his original place. Hermione couldn’t tell if he did it because he was afraid of Bellatrix or another different reason.  

“Lucius, how pleasant is to see you again.” Hermione and probably everyone there heard how fake those uttered words sounded. Till this moment the woman hadn’t acknowledged the girl’s presence, as her eyes stayed fixed at the man. She stepped closer into the personal space of Lucius, with a gentle expression she said. “The man that can lead a healthy life, without having any spine. You are a great inspiration to us all, Lucius.” She said it as if his name tasted wrong in her mouth.

If Hermione wasn’t so busy absorbing the fact that it appeared to be that she wasn’t the only receiver of Bellatrix insults and abuse and more importantly that she disliked her sister’s husband greatly, she would have laughed out loud at Bellatrix’s dig.

The brunette took in Lucius appearance. The man had tired eyes, the dark circles under only served to prove further that he hasn’t been sleeping lately. The man’s lips were dry, just like the rest of his skin. His long blond hair was slightly disheveled as if had been combed by fingers and not by a proper brush, she noticed that some strands were turning silver. It was more than evident that the stress the man had been feeling was crushing him, who knows for how long he has been living like that. Months probably.  

Voldemort was angry with Lucius, that much at least Draco let her know just now. And by consequence, if Voldemort was angry with Lucius, surely his Lieutenant was equally angry at Lucius.

The man stepped forward openly sneering at the dark witch. “It wasn’t entirely my fault Bellatrix and you know-…”

“What seems to be the problem here?” She interrupted, finally acknowledging the pressing issue. 

Now the sneer directed towards Bellatrix was direct at Hermione “She was on the trees, probably spying.”

The older woman took in the girl’s appearance. “Were you?” She bobbed her head, asking with a very serious expression on her face.    

The brunette saw through it, she knew the woman was only being annoying to increase her distress, and by consequence amuse herself. “Yes, I was. You put me there, remember?” She threw an exasperated look.

She turned towards Lucius. “Did you help her go down.” But the man seemed confused. She looked behind her shoulder, directing her attention at her nephew. “Draco?”

The boy opened his mouth a couple of times looking between his aunt and father, before replying. “She fell.”

“Explain,” Bellatrix said.

“I heard she cast Relashio, then Arresto Momentum.” After a heartbeat he looked at his father “W-which means she was probably stuck on the trees, and not spying.”

She waved the girl’s wand to break the spell Lucius had on the girl.

Hermione never thought there’ll be a moment in her life where she would appreciate the feeling of the hard ground under her feet.

“And you still managed to fall on your face. I believe it takes a special talent to achieve that.”

The girl clenched her jaw. She should have known what to expect, of course, Bellatrix would diminish her victory and turning it into a failure.

How she wanted to punch that smug face on hers.

“I completed the task, Bellatrix. My wand.” She extended her hand.

Surprisingly, Bellatrix placed the end of the wand on her palm without any resistance. Something that Hermione was prepared to meet.

How unpredictable she was.

“Tomorrow same hour, mudblood.”

 

* * *

 

_“The way I see it, you’ve learned valuable abilities,”_ Nagini said, rolling comfortably over the divan, almost like a cat would do. Hermione could understand the feeling, the fabric was so delightfully soft, just like most of the furniture inside the mansion.

“You are missing the point. _That_ is something I can do by myself.”  She took a deep breath, unwilling to let her temper flares up again. “I do not need her, yet the Lord tells her to tutor me”

_“Is that why you are angry?”_

Hermione lifted her shirt as a response, displaying reddened marks all over her torso. Then, she proceeded to lift her sleeves showing the angry red marks, matching the other ones on the rest of her body. “This for starters it is what has me so angry. The second reason is that she isn’t teaching me anything that I cannot do by myself. Which it only means she just wants to make my life miserable…” Remembering what Bellatrix and she talked yesterday, she added. “Bellatrix says she doesn’t trust me; for all I know, she might be thinking that I’m spying for the Order or something. That is why she is willing to ‘training’ me”

Nagini laughed _,_ a sound Hermione wasn’t still used to hear. _“She really underestimates our Lord’s intelligence.”_

Hermione looked at the snake, that certainty and confidence in her voice made her wonder if she or the Lord suspected of the Potions Master. If they did, they would have already uncovered his treachery, the brunette reasoned. Voldemort wasn’t a man to sit and wait if there was no real motivation behind it. Either Severus’s days were numbered, her intuition told her it was unlikely. Or perhaps, Nagini was giving too much credit to Voldemort’s intelligence. Whatever it was, Hermione could only sit and watch things develop from far away. 

“Please could you just answer this, is he punishing us, Nagini?” Hermione’s voice almost sounded like she was pleading “She for lying and me for… I don’t know” She shrugged her shoulders, not entirely convinced of what she was about to say “not being good enough?”

Nagini stayed silent for a short span of time, the brunette guessed she was considering her next words. _“Sit with me.”_ The snake invited her, as her figure uncoiled, opening a space wide enough for Hermione to sit. The girl sat without hesitation, letting herself be surrounded by Nagini’s body. _“I believe is not a punishment. If our Lord wanted to punish you, you’ll be having pretty scars all over your body.”_ The snake closed in the girl’s ear as if she needed to whisper it in the front of her mind. _“Those you have right now can be easily erased. But the ones that our Lord gives, those never disappear.”_

“I’m not sure if that should appease me or not.” The girl said, her body almost shivering, she didn’t know if it was because of the thought of the hypothetical situation of meeting Voldemort’s ugly side, or simply by the closeness of Nagini that sometimes was a little unnerving, but not enough to put her on edge or make her very uncomfortable.  

_“At the very least, he’ll threaten you to be eaten by me,”_ Nagini said with flippancy.

She laughed at that. “That’ll be more punishment for you than for me, I don’t think I’ll taste good.”

_“Oh, no dearest”_ She could swear Hermione heard a purring behind that raspy tone _“on the contrary, you do taste quite delicious when you are not moody, like right now.”_

Nagini moved her head over the girl’s lap, the rest of her body enclosed around Hermione _“You are so warm.”_

Hermione was about to offer a warming charm but opted for not to, as she didn’t wish to get sidetracked by their conversation. “Now I understand, I have always sensed to you look at me like you wish to eat me.” 

_“Hmm…Can you blame me? You are such a treat.”_ Perhaps Nagini saw everyone as a potential meal, and the brunette realized that she couldn’t blame her. After all, Nagini was a huge snake that needed equally large meals to sustain herself. Luckily, the brunette wasn’t on the menu for the foreseeable future.

Their conversation died after that, Hermione sat there enjoying the silence and the company of Nagini. Meanwhile Nagini seemed to have the same intentions, and of course to take pleasure in the radiating warmth of the brunette.

Surprisingly, despite their first encounter, Hermione had learned to enjoy the snake’s company and her devilish personality. Although she rarely displayed any other magical abilities besides Legilimency, she has led Hermione to believe that she is smart. Not knowledgeable, but that she can learn fast. Which meant that she didn’t go to school, either magical or muggle one. It made her wonder what kind of life Nagini had before permanently becoming a snake. But she didn’t want to pry into something that was a very personal matter. And Nagini never seemed willing to share her past life, from time to time she would only catch small glimpses of it, but too little to even be able to connect it somehow. 

Hermione internally laughed at the irony as the idea crossed her mind. It was funny, that in this pit full of vipers and snakes, the one that was a real snake was the closest thing to a friend she had on this side.   

_“I think a have death skin in my eye, will you help me remove it?”_ Nagini slithered further around Hermione’s figure, putting a small portion of her body on the girl’s lap.

Hermione grunted at the weight on her body. “You are quite heavy you know”   

_“…Are you calling me fat?”_

Hermione smiled at the teasing tone in her mind, Nagini would ever hardly be so relaxed as to joke so often. She was glad to see the snake had a sense of humor. “Me? I would never dare.”

The girl reached for the head, it was cold and soft to the touch. Is definitely not like she imagined, she’d have always thought it’ll be moist or slimy given the fact that the light always shined upon her skin. Curious eyes scrutinized the details on Nagini head, she noticed some fainted marks of what looked like an old scar one side of her face. For a few seconds, brown and yellow eyes connected, Hermione felt that Nagini was examining her face just as much as she was doing it to her.  

Indeed, there was a piece of dried skin poking under her eye. Careful to not fully touch the eye, Hermione scratched the small patch of shed skin.  “There.” Rubbing a thumb to make sure no trace was left behind. “Aren’t you captivating?”

_“Probably because of my rugged looks.”_ Hermione snorted at the silly reply, she was about to speak again, but the sound of several steps approaching was closing in. After a beat, the doors of the room slid sideways, displaying Bellatrix with both arms stretched, grabbing each door’s handle. The woman halted her movements at the sight of Hermione and Nagini.

The dark witch’s eyes turned wider; surprise flickered in her face just before she adopted an impassive expression. A couple of figures behind her came into sight, Hermione recognized them immediately, they were the Lestrange brothers, accompanied by Yaxley and Dolohov.

She stayed still, with Nagini’s head still on her hands, watching the lot of them behind Bellatrix’s back. Several pair of eyes set with curiosity on the duo, Hermione saw a half-smile forming on Dolohov’s lips just before returning to look at the dark witch. The older woman’s gaze had hardened. Hermione recognized it as the same look she had in the library, a restrained form of contempt.

 “I hope we are not interrupting anything,” Bellatrix said, in a very syrupy voice. But her upper lip was almost itching to form a snarl. The woman slowly entered the room, followed by her entourage.

Suddenly the Malfoy mansion didn’t feel as big as before.

Nagini hissed loudly, stopping the tracks of everyone except for Bellatrix _“We were just leaving…”_ the snake spoke to the girl. 

_“Say it!”_ She hissed again, this time in an almost none aggressive manner, almost.  

Hermione calmly stood up, pretending to be uninterested with was happening. “We were just leaving…The room is all yours, guys.” She faced at the four men standing before her, the brothers were the only ones with guarded distrust, her eyes lingered on Rodolphus Lestrange for a few more seconds before looking back at Nagini “Come on, Nagini. Let’s go.”

As Hermione was leaving the room with Nagini trailing behind her, she heard Yaxley speaking. “She talks to the snake? I thought it only talked with our Lord…”

“Go and ask her or it,” Said Rabastan Lestrange.

“Don’t ask her, she’ll just probably tell you to go and ask your Lord” Dolohov spoke with humor in his voice.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Nagini took the path towards Voldemort’s chambers, not before bidding goodbye to the girl. _“We’ll talk again, soon.”_

* * *

 

From her frizzy hair to her agitated pacing around the room, Hermione gave an air of restrained and controlled chaos.

A distinctive smell of Jeuspinia mushroom and Whisperleaf mixed together came from the small cauldron placed on the tea table. The fumes merged together into her clothes and probably any cloth material close from it. While not many people enjoyed the smell, Hermione had learned to tolerate it, to even not mind the penetrating odor at all. An enchanted knife was carefully mincing the rest of the ingredients, while Hermione was preparing the next formula for the second cauldron, at the same moment she was watchful of the passing time, not a minute earlier or late she must have to incorporate everything into the mix. With months of practice, Hermione discovered that with precise timing, temperature and the use of a black Poui-wood spoon instead of the conventional ones, it made the effect of the potion stronger and durable than the original recipe.

A bubbling sound came from the second cauldron, indicating that the draught was starting to boil. The brunette quickly wrapped up all the ingredients in a cloth and placed it into the cauldron. 

Her eyes flickered towards the clock once more.

_‘Maybe he isn’t coming.’_

 With an upper motion of her hand, the knife stopped cutting then proceeded to place all the minced ingredients when into the first cauldron, very gently she introduced the spoon. This was the most difficult part, her movements needed to delicate, careful not agitated too much the contents inside. Slowly, the spoon did swirls counterclockwise. Even now, Hermione would hold her breath every time until she was finished. She counted to 15 and then she did 1 swirl clockwise.

After this, the only thing left was to wait for an hour and then pour the contents into the aligned vials on the table. As the spoon came out, she exhaled loudly, laying back languidly into the sofa.  

The second cauldron to kept boiling its concoction, Hermione watched the vapor going up mixing its fumes with the already widely spread smell of the Veela’s brew. Her nose was numbed that she could barely smell anything by now.

The expected knock at her door finally came. She turned to look at the clock, almost midnight.

How inconsiderate.

“Come in.” Not moving from her place, waving her hand to stop the boiling process of the second cauldron.

Severus stepped through the door, brown eyes observed how his eyes wandered across the room, assumingly he was taking in the whole mess on Hermione’s working space. After a moment she guessed right seeing the small sniff of disapproval on his face.  “Did you rob the apothecary again, Granger?”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows “Again? What do you mean?”

The air was very stuffy inside due to all the potion brewing, something that Hermione was used to. But Snape seemed very intolerant towards the sensation and the smell, the man pulled his wand to open all the windows as he conjured a mild form of venti circulating the air from inside. It only took a second to have the room’s air fresh and purified.    

“Didn’t you steal ingredients from my storage room in the second year to make a Polyjuice potion?” A short small smile flashed across his face, watching the girl open her eyes wide. 

Hermione was surprised that he had known all this time, and here she was thinking she got away with it. “Are you mad about that?” She smiled sheepishly; the girl chuckled at the more serious face of the man.

“I just ask the elves to buy everything for me. I can’t leave the grounds without the Lord’s permission remember?”

Severus sat on the sofa facing the girl just like the last time they were in the room. But on this occasion, things felt less tense.

“Do you want black tea?” She offered, at what the man only gave a slight nod. 

“Everyone is still curious about you, Dolohov just cornered me before coming here.” Hermione understood that as an apology for his tardiness.

“What did he want?” The tea tray came floating over the occupied table, delicately pouring two cups of tea.

“More of the same I assume, he wants to know why are you here,” Severus said while taking hold of the warm cup and the saucer. “Granted, he seemed more curious, than outright suspicious.”

That was good. The half-smile in the study was a good signal and now Severus relying on this information to her, perhaps Dolohov has learned to accept her without holding any ill-will against her persona.

Hermione commanded the tray to go back to its place. “What did you tell him?” The warm liquid traveled down her esophagus, feeling the tiny bit of tension at the back of her skull eased at the hot spice. The girl relished the sweet aroma lingering in her mouth.

“That you have always been rotten.” His stoic features never fell. For a second, Hermione couldn’t detect if he was serious or not. Slowly, the corners of her lips curved upwards when she saw the meaning behind his words. “Thank you for putting out a good word for me.”

If only all their conversations were like this, Hermione could see a potential friend in Severus.

Such a shame it wasn’t.

He took the first sip of his tea; Hermione saw the approval in his face at her choice of herbs. How strange was to sit in front of the man she tried to murder yesterday; sitting comfortably and sipping his tea. Which if she were in his place, she would definitely think it was poisoned. But no, Severus didn’t seem to be suspicious, nor angry.

How bizarre, being here and exchanging words like friends.

_‘More bizarre must be for him, sitting in front of her ex-student who tried to burn him to crisp’_

Not wishing to waste more time in idle chat Hermione approached the subject first. “I must assume you are here because about what happened yesterday.” 

“What do you think happened yesterday?”

“Enough Snape, I’m not playing games with you.” She spoke with a cutting tone. She wouldn’t let Severus take the control of the conversation “Either you explain what is that you wish to talk about or don’t.”

“Then you better start by answering my question.” He replied calmly.

“Why would I?” she retorted quickly. 

“Are you aware that you shaped during our fight?” His question came out very casual, so much, that Hermione thought he was joking with her, but his stoic face never wavered.

 “Shaped...” Her eyes narrowed, not sure if she understood his words. “As if in werewolf?” The man nodded.

She could hardly believe what he was saying. Yet, she saw only truth on his features. “That can’t happen is impossible.”

“I thought so too. But you did, at least partially.”

“What do you mean partially?”

“You grew fangs and the eyes changed to amber.”

Hermione instinctively reached for her mouth, pressing the fingertips onto her lips “…How?” she muttered, barely audible.  

“Tell me, Granger. What happened yesterday?” The man insisted once more. The saucer rested over his crossed legs on top of his knee, one hand was holding it, while the other lifted the cup to his lips. The brunette perceived that Severus wasn’t really angry at her, he seemed more interested in a reason than anything else. There was a calm aura around him.

“Why did you attack me?” There it was, again. The inflection of curiosity instead of recrimination.

He just wanted to understand. 

“I was angry.”

“Why?”

“You called me a stupid child.” Her voice was neutral, detached.

That was one way to simplify all the turmoil she felt inside last night. 

“And for that, you tried to kill me?” He raised an eyebrow, asking for more than that.

Hermione didn’t feel like explaining herself to him. Indeed, she was angry at his words, but what threw her out the cliff into an ocean of raging madness was the way he said it. He had opinions and questions that didn’t concern him, whether his intentions were benign or not.  Snape looking down on her as if he was right in all accounts, was one of the many things that drove her to see red.

And willing to admit it at least to herself, the fact that he called her a mudblood and disappointing in the same sentence, it did hurt.   

“…I think I might have lost control of my emotions.” A long sigh left her mouth, watching the man silently ask _‘might have?’_

“To be honest when I woke up this morning, I barely remember what happened last night. I remember feeling angry at the things you said. And before talking to you, you saw I had to deal with Bellatrix and our Lord. Last night when you saw me, I wasn’t very…emotionally stable. Truthfully, I wasn’t conscious that I tried to kill you till today’s morning.”

This was as far as she was willing to share. Snape acknowledge her words with a nod, seemingly satisfied with her reply.

He sat forward; his gaze fixed at her.  “I tried to find an answer to this new development of yours, but so far there are no patients infected with lycanthropy that displayed the same symptoms as yours, Granger. And if there were, it has not been recorded.” He paused for a moment, turning his eyes at the piled-up books placed on the floor next to him. Hermione’s books about lycanthropy. “I can’t say I’m surprised. In reality, there is not enough research on this field.”

“Tell me about it,” Hermione said, looking at the same direction he was. By now she was sure she could recite every paragraph of those books. Their contents held some useful information, but most was completely rubbish. 

“As you already know, Lycanthropy carriers may develop certain behaviors outside of the monthly transformation. Taste for raw meat, growling, keen sense of smell. Or like Greyback, his long nails and the excess of fur on his face.”

“And you think is somehow related to my case?”

“Werewolves are emotional beings. They are not driven by rationality, hence the need for Wolfsbane to keep them sane during full-moon. Werewolves feel everything strongly, the hate is more intense, they love like a starved animal. They are extremely passionate beings.”

Severus hesitated for a second, thinking his next words. “I believe the emotions; in this case, your rage triggered those effects. Yesterday, with the intensity of the moonlight mixed with anger, gave an opportunity for you to transform.”

“But if werewolves are so emotional, surely I shouldn’t be the only one that has shaped. There must be at least one infected in a moment of their lives must have felt as strongly as I did and shaped.”

“And that is the question that I pondered over. As I said, there are no registered cases similar to yours.”

“You are unique, Granger,” Said Severus.

But Hermione didn’t care for uniqueness at all.  

_‘So many dramatic changes in one’s life will eventually numb anyone…’_ Hermione reflected on why wasn’t she surprise about this change as she sat still, absorbing this new revelation.

Basically, she shaped because she went mad.  

Hate strongly, love strongly. Those words didn’t sit well with Hermione. Did it mean to be lost in the emotion without having control over her mind?

After a heartbeat, the brunette realized that indeed that’s exactly what it meant, that is why she tried to kill Severus and why it was easy to use hate as a base for casting her magic. She didn’t know what to do with this information, should she be worried? Or just go along with it? There wasn’t anything she could do. She should take wolfbane? Impossible, as she couldn’t predict when she was about to lose her temper again.   

“Unlike Potter, you don’t wear proudly your heart under your sleeve. Yet, you still have too much to learn.” Hermione turned to look at Severus who was scrutinizing her from across. Fully understanding what he meant by that, Hermione eased the tension in her body and made sure the expression in her face was neutral.

“Do I need to be worried?”

“Just try to control your temper if you don’t want to end up in the same circumstances.”

_‘Easier said than done.’_

“I’ll try that. Perhaps meditation could help.”

Severus nodded in approval.

The man forcefully placed the cup and the saucer on the small table. He faced at the girl, opening and closing his mouth; her eyes saw the light struggle within him, whatever he wished to say seemed difficult to voice it out.

“As for calling you a stupid child, I won’t apologize for that. You are a child, and you are behaving stupidly.” He raised his hand up, stopping any intention for Hermione to rebut his last words. “But for what I will apologize is for calling you a mudblood, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”

Hermione didn’t expect that at all, it must have cost him a lot of effort on his part to concede he did wrong. But the damage was already done and the apology although sincere, it didn’t hold any meaning to the brunette.

And if he expected for her to apologize for trying to kill him, he was going to be very disappointed. She didn’t feel like asking for forgiveness over something she didn’t have control. So, she did what she was capable to do according to her actual feelings, she acknowledged his words and move on.

“How did I arrive at my room? And did you change my clothes?”

“Narcissa did. She approached me, us, when you were about to pass out.”

Her mind unconsciously resurfaced the vivid memory, Hermione reached for her chest, caressing the invisible cuts as if they were still there open. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by Severus, who suddenly cleaned his throat and twisted on his seat.

 “I’m sure she had questions. And what did you tell her?” Trying to not jump into conclusion of what she might or might not have seen.   

“She saw you on the ground injured, she knows I did that to you. After I cast the counterspell and bought you inside the mansion to Narcissa’s healing room. She helped you treat the rest of the bruises and cuts. While she did that, she asked me for an explanation.” He paused, and then said slowly in a serious voice. “You must know, Granger, that I don’t go randomly casting a spell towards children. Especially not the ones that can fully maim a person.” A feeling of uneasiness started to stir in Hermione, “To explain what happened without giving your secret away, I said you suffer from psychotic behavior”

“What?”

“A muggle condition that-”

“I know what it is!” She cried “So you told her I’m crazy?!”

“Yes.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the almost imperceptible trembling on the man’s lips. The corners of his mouth were fighting to go upwards, his eyes glinted with mirth.

“You are such a child!” Hermione exclaimed, crossing her arms defensively. Despite the annoyed expression on her face, the brunette was internally pleased to see that Severus Snape could smile, and have the opportunity to be able to see it.    

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. “If it makes feel any better, I don’t think she entirely believed me. If she knows something more than what I told her, she didn’t show it.”

It didn’t.

“Bloody great.” She said, sounding not so happy. “I’ll talk to her.”

And just for a moment, as Hermione rested her head on the backseat, watching the teapot refilling both cups, she pretended that Severus was a friend and not the double agent that he was.  Just for a moment, she was willing to forget all the ways that this precarious relationship could go wrong in the near future.

_‘Just for a moment, we can pretend to be normal.’_ She thought while watching the man enjoy his cup of tea. 

“Now tell me, how was your training with Bellatrix?” He casually asked.

Hermione groaned out loud.

_‘Ugh, not again…’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here i am with another chapter. Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Probably updates are going to slower down, cuz y'know, damn real life gets in the way. But I am already in the process of writing the next chapter, so if you are liking so far, don't fret you'll see more Bellamione soon enough.


	12. Chapter 12

Cokeworth’s residents were greeted by the stuffy atmosphere in the early morning. A thick grey mantle of pollution enveloped most of the city; on certain summer days, like today, the town’s textile factories work non-stop. The river bank had more garbage than often did, and large chunks of accumulated lint floated along the green water giving it a grimier look than usual. Most of the waste ended up accumulated at the bank on the end of the Spinner’s End street. Sometimes the smell coming from the river could be so foul that most of the closest residents would often wear a cloth covering half of their faces.

As soon as Severus opened his eyes, he regretted leaving the windows open at night. All because he was too drunk to cast a cooling spell before going to sleep. With his face submerged in the pillow, his hand touched blindly across the bedside table, pushing across unimportant objects till his fingers found what he was looking for. With two twists of his wrist, the smell had vanished, and the windows were closed. 

While full consciousness simmered through his mind, the incoming headache did too.

Severus rarely indulged in solitary self-intoxication but for some reason, nostalgia perhaps, last night he indulged a little too much on elven wine and, as his eyes settle on the bottle on the floor, one bottle of fire-whiskey.

To look at it made him feel queasy.

The man walked to the kitchen. He rubbed his chin, feeling the prickling hairs against his palm. Being unable to grow a natural and respectable beard, Severus did a mental note to shave clean.

But before that, he needed first to ease his dried throat and the pulsing headache. While he looked Boltus potion to cure his hangover. A brown owl pecked on his window.

Severus let the animal enter and place the delivery on the table. The animal flew away right after.

As he emptied the contents of the vial Severus took the most recent edition of the Daily Prophet on his hands. Were it not because he has years of experience at controlling his emotions, he would have spat the contents of his mouth. He re-read the headlines over again just to make sure he didn’t misunderstand.

Slowly, he lowered the newspaper. His gaze fixed on the dark wooden table.  His first thoughts went to Dumbledore. Knowing that after the headmaster sees this, it won’t be long before he summons him.  

Convinced that this new development will bring too much uncertainty, Severus hastily prepared for the day. 

* * *

 

“Now levitate it higher.”

Hermione did as she was told, her arm rose higher followed by the heavy crystal ball suspended in the air.

“Hold it there.”

She grunted; her whole right arm felt almost like jelly. Shadows passed by from the corner of her eye. Someone or someones were watching the training from afar. However, from her position, it was hard to tell who they were.

The ball shook, abruptly losing its height.

“Focus!” Bellatrix commanded.

“You are too distracted today mudblood. Why is that?”

Hermione cast a quick glance at Bellatrix, only to be scolded again.

“Don’t look at me! Look at your target!” Hermione could almost taste the sour mood of the older woman in her mouth. The brunette wondered what got Lestrange in such an angrier and meaner mood than usual.

Gritting her teeth, she gazed firmly at the target. Ignoring the constant trembling in her arm, she kept the ball unmoving.

“Cast Diffindo.”

Nimble fingers made an incisive motion downwards. With the loud crack came along little crystallized dust falling like almost invisible, tiny snowflakes. Both witches watched the two-crystal half’s laying on the ground.

Bellatrix reached for both pieces, closely examining the results. From her standing position, Hermione observed Bellatrix’s fingers running across the inner part of the ball with an unreadable expression on her face.  

For a second the brunette expected a negative response, as usual. But instead, Bellatrix turned to glance at her with an expression that almost looked like an appraisal. “It is uneven. But a clean-cut none the less.” She raised the two pieces on the air, soon the solid material liquified joining together again to make itself ball. “Let’s move on to the next spell.”

The brunette released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. The small shakes began creeping around her arms, legs, and back. Her muscles were screaming at her for a well-deserved rest.

She cleaned the sweat from her brow, as she waited for Bellatrix to start the demonstration. 

All that Hermione was learning since she began training under Bellatrix’s tutelage had been wandless magic. As the first 2 weeks slowly progressed, the spells became harder to cast. Spells that with a wand in hand she could cast them with her eyes and mouth closed. A first-year student at Hogwarts could do all this with little effort.

But now those same spells proved taxing; for wandless magic is in another realm of casting prowess.

“Very well, mudblood. Let’s see what you can do.” She pointed at scattered pieces of burned wood “Aim there.” 

Her mind and body had to be in perfect synchronization, like two dancers, moving at the rhythm of the music. If her mind and hand were the dancers and the music was the magic. Everything had to be the right amount. The right amount of magic, the correct swing of her wrist and fingers. The right position of her feet; both grounded on the soil.

A dance full of risks; for wandless magic, is as dangerous as it is extremely useful.  

One false step and it could lead her to incredible pain.

As she pronounced the magical words, a gust of wind passing through carried a whiff of the most delicious, sublime smell reaching her nostrils and halting any functions in the brain.

The flame didn’t shoot like it was expected to, instead it furiously engulfed the girl’s hand for a few agonizing seconds.

Things went south in a matter of seconds.

“What have I told you, stupid girl?!” Bellatrix screeched; the long maintained neutral expression on face turned to one of exasperation.  “You must focus!” Her angry shout was muffled by the sudden cries of pain from the brunette.

Hermione kneeled on the ground, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill “Damn it! It hurts!” she whimpered as she cupped her right hand close to her chest.

Bellatrix approached her intending to take a better look at the injury “Let me see,” She said, irritated. But Hermione quickly slapped the woman’s hand not wanting to be touched by her. Afraid that her touch could turn like the incident of weeks ago. “Don’t touch me.” 

For a second the dark witch blinked confused by the rejection. But quickly her expression tightened with anger. “So be it.” She hissed. Somehow her foul mood became more distinct “Suck it up, mudblood.” Dark eyes loomed over the girl “Try again!”

“Are you serious?! I can’t!” Her voice sounded ragged. She clenched her jaw trying to contain the whimper in her throat. Beads of sweat concentrated on her forehead, traveling all the way to her jaw. Her mind could hardly catch up with reality. The large part of her hand was an ugly red. The skin was open, peeling itself to reveal an inner layer; small bubbles of water started to take form under a very thin layer of skin. And small drops of blood started to filter from the muscle tissue.

Hermione was convinced it was a second-degree burn.

If that wasn’t enough, she was gradually losing the effects of her daily potion. Her mind felt like she could barely form a coherent thought.

 “You can and you will! Stand up!” The dark witch forced her to stand up by a flicker of her wand. Hermione couldn’t do anything but to abide the will of the magic forcing to stretch her legs. “And try not to burn your face this time. Or do it; see if I care.” The dark witch replied snottily.

“I can’t!” The girl yelled, immobilized by the intense burning sensation in her hand. The pain became sharper even when a single muscle twitched involuntarily. “I can’t move my hand!”

Her mind kept screaming out.

The throbbing pain continued increasing in waves, there were very few intervals of small lulls giving her false of an end. But each wave robbed her of the ability to even breath. Her legs trembled as if they would give up again.

Bellatrix prostrated before her. The smell quickly invaded her senses, yet it did nothing to distract her from her injury.

 “They are watching how pathetic you are, little mudblood” The dark witch turned to look over the girl’s shoulder, a smile that didn’t match the cruel tone of her voice. “They are having a laugh at your expense by seeing how weak you are.”

Hermione maintained her eyes glued to the ground, cupping her hand close to her chest. She tried not to react to the woman’s taunts. It bothered her that to a certain extent Bellatrix had learned to prod at her pride. It was her fault; she hasn’t been shy about her capabilities. It was only a matter of time that Bellatrix figured it out how to mock her where it bothered her. 

The girl could feel Bellatrix’s impatience increasing by the second. The sound of gravel grazing against the dark leather boots as they took every step were becoming more forceful and restless, like a child who just couldn’t stay still for 10 seconds.

The tip of the woman’s wand dug under the girl’s chin pushing upwards until their eyes met. Defiant brown eyes saw that there was no trace of sympathy on her face but only dark amusement. The thrumming in her body was almost alive by the closeness of this woman.

She wondered if Bellatrix felt any different.

Probably not.

“Tell me, Girl. Once on the battlefield, do you think the other side would be as forgiving as I am right now? What if you get injured and the only way to defend yourself is wandless magic? Are you going to kneel and cry?”

Hermione knew that it shouldn’t surprise her that Bellatrix could be such a bitch as to force her to cast again in such state. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel the twinge of disappointment at her indifference. She knew the feeling was utterly ridiculous. Still, the emotion was there in her chest. She blamed her wolf for that.  

“I’m asking a question, mudblood. You better answer!” Bellatrix’s voice became dangerously low.

Through clenched teeth, the girl replied. “No” her eyes never straying from the incisive dark orbs “I won’t kneel.” She bared her teeth, trying not to wince at the mind-numbing pain.

 “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll attack.”

“Yes!” The dark witch withdrew her wand from the girl’s chin and stepped back. Hermione took the chance to release the breath she was holding. By now she couldn’t separate the difference of whether her mind felt numb because of the smell or the intense pain. Or both.

“You block your pain and attack! Because your life depends on it!” Bellatrix waved her hand dramatically. Lost in her own thoughts of won battles, or the multiple memories of torturing her enemies.

“Do it now!” Bellatrix commanded once more. But Hermione fervently shook her head before speaking.

Bellatrix could see the flame extinguishing inside those brown eyes.

“I can’t”

Hermione was frightened to make the same mistake again and worsen her injury. There was no doubt in her mind that she could try again with this injury. The very thought of trying terrified her.

“You’ll do it or so help me I will Crucio you!” She pointed her wand at Hermione as a warning. 

“Don’t look at me like that, girl. You didn’t want my help. Now we do things my way. You have two options here. Either you’ll do as I say or you’ll be on the floor begging for mercy, then you’ll do as I say…”

 “I don’t care! I don’t care if someone is laughing at me. Nor do I bloody care if you throw Crucio at me. I won’t do it, because I can’t. Not because I don’t want to.” She mustered what little energy she had to stand her ground.

A snarl appeared on the woman’s features, no longer appreciating the girl’s defiance. But before she could do well on her promise, both witches were interrupted by a blonde woman.

“Bellatrix that’s enough!” Hermione heard Narcissa’s authoritative voice behind her back. The sound of her steps getting louder by the second. “She is a child!” 

Bellatrix kept pointing her wand at Hermione, but her head turned to look at her sister. She scoffed at Narcissa’s words “She needs to learn Cissy. I’m doing her a favor.” Her gaze returned to Hermione “And apparently she needs a dose of respect for her teacher.”

Narcissa placed herself between her sister and the girl. At that moment, something told Hermione that the person watching from afar had been Narcissa.

“What kind of favor is that? if she can hardly acknowledge your words. She can barely stand still; much less is she able to move her hand. Narcissa paused for a moment, she spared a glance towards the pitiful-looking girl. “Bella, you are not teaching; you are torturing her.”

“You have never been in a war. War is unforgiving, and she needs to be prepared.” Bellatrix expression darkened. “And you know very well is possible to cast with an injured hand. After all, you have seen it before."

Narcissa features relaxed, retaking her usual cold demeanor. “Yes, and I’m sure you remember what happened after.” A shadow set across her blue eyes.

 The dark witch lowered her wand while adopting the same body language of her sister. For a moment, Hermione felt like an intruder; both women seemed to share a conversation in silence. But not knowing what else to do, she stood there with them.

 “You can continue this tomorrow,” Narcissa said, allowing no more room for argument.

“Do what you must, dear sister,” Bellatrix replied begrudgingly. Before Narcissa could say something else, the dark witch turned around and walked away. Only Narcissa and Hermione remained in the empty clearing listening to the sound of quick steps fading in the distance.

Narcissa turned around, Hermione regarded her face with curiosity. Her features held no visible emotions but as soon as her blue sets on her injury she reacted as if she had smelled something awful.

She pulled out her wand, with a gentle swift Hermione’s hand was encased by an orb of cool water. The girl gasped. She held her breath, waiting to get accustomed to the new sensation.

 “Follow me, Miss Granger.” Narcissa walked pass beside the brunette, her steps tracing back to the mansion.

 

* * *

 

Hermione _knew._ She knew this could happen. She should have looked for an excuse to not train today. Once was a coincidence but two weren't. The symptoms of her imprinting aggravated on the day of full moon. It rendered the potion almost useless. It was her damn fault she got injured. And more than that, she risked herself further with Bellatrix.

The woman noticed how distracted she was; the brunette tried very hard to school her facial expressions and not give anything away. But this was Bellatrix she was talking about.

‘ _What if she finds something odd enough for her to investigate further?’_ She was becoming reckless. Too much trust in the potion. And not in her instincts. 

Hermione found herself sitting again in Narcissa’s potion room. The sound of drawers and cabinet doors being opened reached her ears soon after they arrived. While Narcissa kept searching for her ingredients, the girl lay down on the small bed. Finally, a respite for the rest of her muscles, despite the angry pain pulsing in her hand.

She felt so exhausted.

All these days with Bellatrix have been slowly draining her. It didn’t matter how fast learner she has become, especially since getting infected with lycanthropy. Even if it only took less than a few days to learn a new wandless spell. That, surely any professor at Hogwarts would be amazed by her abilities if they were to see her nowadays.

All that didn’t matter, for Bellatrix made her feel like everything she has done is wrong.

There hasn’t been a session where the dark witch didn’t ask anything but perfection when it came to spell casting. Even when Hermione was confident that she did everything right. Bellatrix would always verbally abuse her and tell her how mediocre she was. Like today, even that appraisal made it look like criticism.

Wrong posture; wrong hand movement; too weak to damage; too wasteful with energy etc.

“Bloody crazy woman,” Hermione muttered to herself as she steamed on her own thoughts.

A faint pull slowly manifested in her chest as if her wolf was trying to remind her how deeply tied she was to that deranged witch.

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“Drink this,” Narcissa said, offering a black vial to Hermione. 

This time there was no hesitation from the girl’s side, she drank it avidly. A grimace and cough followed after she emptied the contents of it. The taste was awfully bitter, similar drinking bleach. “What was this?” The brunette asked. Another coughing fit came She quickly covered her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“It helps to fasten the curing process.” The blue-eyed woman replied.

Narcissa took out an orange past from the lower drawers. “Place your hand on the table and raise up your sleeve.” She instructed. 

Hermione abided her words. She lowered her gaze, observing how the long fingers applied a thick layer on her burned skin. The brunette concentrated on Narcissa’s touch; appreciating how gentle it was. The blonde woman was careful to not put much pressure on the wound. She guessed it came with the experience of being a mother.

“Do you have much experience treating the injured?” Hermione asked with interest.

Narcissa’s ministrations stopped. She glanced up at the girl before replying. “No, it is recently that I have started nursing people.”

The brunette saw the evident tension on Narcissa’s shoulders, even on her chiseled features, there were faint traces of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. No matter how much glamour she had used around her eyes, there wasn’t any potion available that could erase the exhaustion in those blue orbs.

Hermione wondered if her lack of sleep had anything to do with her family problems.

“Death eaters?”

Narcissa’s expression was very much stoic, but once brown eyes met with those icy eyes, they gave away a small glimpse of sympathy…Or was it pity? The brunette couldn’t tell. 

“No. Only you, actually.” Her voice was soft but gave no emotion away.

“I see.”  

Surprisingly, Hermione didn’t feel so bothered by Narcissa’s gaze as much as if she were someone else. 

The woman has helped her twice, and Hermione was grateful for it. Whatever was behind that display of generosity, she wasn’t about to disregard it only because it vexed her greatly when someone looked at her with pity in their eyes.

 _‘Besides, I probably do look pitiful.’_ She was certain her hair was disheveled and frizzy due to the humidity outside. She had dried mud all over her shoes and new robes. Furthermore, just a few moments ago, she carried a twisted expression on her face.

They stayed silent for the next minutes. Hermione kept watching Narcissa spreading the last layer. She could feel the paste already doing its wonders. The burn and pain slowly vanished, leaving only a tingling and cool sensation on the injury. 

Their eyes met once more.

“Do you have any other injury?” Narcissa asked.   

She shrugged. “No, nothing that’s worth checking.”

Narcissa acknowledged her words with a small nod.

“Thank you, Ms. Malfoy.” Hermione sounded genuinely grateful.  “I think Lestrange was about to Crucio me if you hadn’t inter-”

“She wasn’t going to harm you further.” Narcissa cut her words. Whether or not her words were true, Narcissa’s clipped tone was full of certainty.  

 Hermione blinked in confusion. Then, she snorted, the woman couldn’t be serious. “She could have fooled me.”

“Believe it or not, Miss Granger. My sister doesn’t torture children.” Narcissa replied with a serious expression.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, and her pupils filled with incredulity, a wry smile formed on her lips. “Funny you say that, Ms. Malfoy. A couple of weeks ago you asked if the cut on my ribs had been made by your dear sister. Now you say that she would never torture me.”

“I never asked if she did it intentionally, did I?” She stood from the chair; in her hands, she carried the bowl containing what was left of the orange paste. “I know my sister tends to lose control in battle. I only wondered if she hit you accidentally.” 

Hermione shook her head in disagreement “That doesn’t prove she wasn’t going to hurt me today.”

She stopped for a moment, placing the bowl on her working table instead of clean it before its contents solidify. “Doesn’t?” Narcissa turned around raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow in response.  “Let’s see. How long has she been training you?” 

“A little more than two weeks.” She replied, not knowing where this was going.

“Has she intentionally physically tortured you, cut you? maim you?”

“Not exactly, but…”

 “Has she intentionally used a jinx, hex or maybe an unforgivable on you?”

“No. But…”

“Then I stand by my earlier statement.” A short but condescending smile painted the woman’s lips.

A deep frown set on Hermione’s face. Was Narcissa so blind to her sister’s behavior? “She is sadistic!” She stood up from the bed taking a step forward, almost matching the same height as the blonde woman. “She relishes on watching me getting hurt every time I’m training with her! She might not have hurt me directly, _yet_. But her methods often leave me with injuries and open wounds. You saw it today; she doesn’t care if I can barely move. So, forgive me for not believing you that she wouldn’t dare to Crucio me for her own amusement. What guarantees can you give that she would not escalate later on? Nothing!” 

It was Narcissa’s turn to shook her head, she did it so lightly that Hermione could have missed it if she wasn’t looking at her face. Her eyes saw an internal struggle inside the blonde’s mind, her face didn’t reveal anything, but her hands told another different tale. Two fingers played with a silver ring with blue stones, lazulite gems perhaps, tastefully encrusted in the ring. It almost possessed the same color of those cold eyes.

Narcissa’s expression became defensive after noticing the scrutinizing gaze of Hermione on her. “You wouldn’t understand, you are just a…”

“A Mudblood. Is that what you wish to say?” Although her voice was equally devoid of any emotion, like the pure-blooded woman. Hermione couldn’t help but feel the first twinges of irritation bubbling in her stomach.  

“…A Child. And a muggle-born at that.” The woman said, leaving clear that she never meant to use the word mudblood.

“Whatever…” The girl clenched her jaw.

“My sister is not a ‘crazy woman’, Miss Granger. As you blatantly said it.” The girl had the decency to feel embarrassed that Narcissa had heard her early musings.

With a knowing smile, the blonde woman appraised the girl. “After all, you would know…”

“What are…?” Hermione opened her eyes wide, only to narrowed them again as understanding dawned on her.  “Look, whatever Severus told you …”

“Is a lie. I know.”  A tight lip smile appeared on her features. “Please, Miss Granger. By now you must realize that I’m not stupid.

“I never thought you were, Ms. Malfoy.” She meant it.

“I’m very upset with him at the moment. He doesn’t normally lie." She raised one eyebrow "Yet, he lied about you. Why is that, Miss Granger?”

It took a lot of effort to not laugh at that statement. _‘He doesn’t normally lie. Well, that’s rich.’_

Like a punch in the gut, a realization hit Hermione with such force that she almost flinched. As the thought rapidly took shape in her head, a cold chill ran through her spine and the smile that threatened to form on her lips had stopped. Instead, she felt her face muscles slowly tensed up in restrained contempt.

How was it possible that Snape, a man whose life is built on lies, couldn’t tell a convincing lie to Narcissa?

_‘Bloody, Slytherin. How didn’t I see it coming?’_

There was no answer in her mind that she could say that won’t arouse more questions. Hermione opted to take the defensive route. 

“Is that what is keeping you awake at night?” Hermione said with a spiteful smile. “The fact that Severus lied and perhaps that you don’t know the reason why I’m still here. You have been a very gracious host to me so far Mrs. Malfoy despite me being a Muggleborn. I wonder why is that? I hope is not to get information out of me. Allow me to save you the effort, you are not getting anything.” 

Her expression adopted a somber, menacing display. “Maybe you should invite your pathetic husband back to your bedroom instead of wasting your time with me. Or focus on your son, he needs your attention more than I need it.”

Narcissa’s expression remained impassive till the moment the girl’s words spoke ill of her family. Her face contorted with restrained anger. She pulled her wand and Hermione immediately wondered if she was going to finish the work that her sister didn’t.  
  
And if she did, Hermione wouldn’t blame her. Not this time. 

With a wave of her wand, she opened the room’s door with such force that it almost broke from its hinges.  “Get. out!” She seethed. “Now!”

The girl barely got out went the door closed violently behind her back.

 Hermione walked the hallway back to the common room. The feeling of guilt slowly consumed her with every step she took. Narcissa didn’t deserve those cruel words.

But there was no other option. If she had lied, Narcissa would have known. That could only lead to more headaches. And to speak the truth wasn’t an option in Hermione’s book. She wanted to talk to the man who caused all this.

However, the motivation didn’t pacify her own remorse. The twinge of guilt churned again on her stomach at the thought of the ungratefulness she showed on her part. The woman had saved her two times. One part of her mind urged to go back and apologize to her, to say she never meant it. Especially those last words. 

 _‘Severus has some explaining to do._ ’   

The brunette had earlier concluded that Snape knew what he was doing. Lying just enough for him to weasel himself out, but no enough for Narcissa to fully believe him. He is manipulating Narcissa. With what point? She wondered.

 

* * *

 

Agony.

It was the only word she could use to describe the werewolf transformation.

The familiar yet so extremely miserable sensation of bones cracking and skin stretching came sooner than she wanted. First, it was the fur covering all over her skin, immediately followed by the skin on the tip of her fingers peeling away, morphing into very sharp claws. After that, it was hell. Her entire body started molding itself into her werewolf shape. Bones became larger, snapping every second. The skin stretched to a point that always made Hermione think it will break and bleed out. But never did. She felt her organs accommodating inside her more ample ribcage. And the upper fangs came out from her mouth, she could feel her lower jaw being grazed by the sharp fangs. 

A huffed formed in her chest, which it came in the sound of a deep growl that rumbled across the room. After feeling the last changes in her body, she looked around feeling disoriented for a short span of time. The process would always leave her dizzy in the first seconds.

Hermione straightened her spine. She stood still, balancing with her two feet.  She looked around making sure from a safe distance that all mirrors were faced down or covered by drapes.  She had never seen how she looks like. It was bad enough that she turned into an ugly beast. There was no need to force that imagine on herself. 

_‘Now what?’_

Hermione eyed the alcohol cabinet, thinking that maybe she could drink herself into a coma-like as she often does when she transformed. But she forgot to resupply, and two bottles of beer won’t do anything against this body.

The metabolism in this body was too fast to hold anything for a long time.

Which brought her to her other problem, the potion that numbed her imprint symptoms didn’t have much effect. It wouldn’t take long before Hermione would start to feel the compulsion to go and look for Bellatrix.

And although the mere idea excited her wolf, Hermione felt nauseated just at the mere suggestion. She hated her, and it’ll be raining frogs the day she finds something to like about that woman.

And even if she was heavily drugged and found somehow Bellatrix likable, Bellatrix didn’t like her. _‘If I would go a look for her in this body, she’ll definitely kill me at first sight.’_ Yet the tug in her body told her that the beast inside didn’t seem to mind those odds.

Lucky for her, as long as she doesn’t forget to drink her wolfsbane, she will always be in control of this body.

It didn’t take long for the sensation to become stronger. This body longed for her mate, and the closer it was, the pulsing became bothersome.

 It was hard to imagine what would she do if she hadn’t drunk the wolfsbane.

Her eyes drifted to the windows. _‘I need to leave.’_

* * *

 _  
_ Hermione rested her hands on the window's ledge, from this room she could see the east garden. There wasn’t any sign of clouds in the sky, the thin tree’s branches shook ever so slightly as the breeze passed through them. She found the mansion’s gardens were a little eccentric for her taste; she preferred the more conventional ones, like the ones that weren’t enchanted. There was something unnerving in being watched by almost sentient statues or moving bushes.

Her eyes rested on the few elves taking this not so often the chance of good weather to tend the flowers and bushes. Some of them were cleaning the gardenias and lilies from unwanted weed, while others trimmed the bushes giving more stylized forms of different kinds of magical beasts. She wondered if those elves were the only ones left alive.

 _‘Poor creatures, they must miss their friends.’_ Hermione tried not to dwell too much on those thoughts, as there was nothing she could do and only served to feed her anger. Instead, she kept looking at the greenery outside.

A soft crack of wood brought her to reality. A tentative step, pressing on naked wood, told Hermione that there was another presence in the room.

How unusual, the girl thought, as she regarded the boy in front of her.    

“You might have to wait; I have a meeting with him. It’ll probably take hours.” Hermione said, bobbing her head towards the sealed door on the other side of the room.

“I didn’t come for a meeting,” Draco said. He opened his mouth, after a second he closed it again.

Hermione observed him, he was well dressed and groomed as always. His posture was rigid, his shoulders back and chest up but there was something off about his posture. After a moment, the witch realized that he lacked the arrogant flair he usually portrays everywhere he goes. Yet, the most prominent feature was in his eyes. They reflected determination.

“Oh, ok.” Hermione ignored him by turning her eyes back to the outside scenery, she drew the curtain further aside. Sunlight streamed into the room. 

Draco walked further inside. His steps became muffled by the plum-colored carpet situated in the center.

The brunette could feel the weight of his eyes behind her, it was so obvious that even Ronald would have been able to feel it, Hermione thought. She smiled at his lack of subtlety as her fingers played with the border of her sleeve.  

“Who are you?” Draco asked.

Hermione chuckled with certain relief; her shoulders became noticeably less tense. Slowly, nimble fingers placed her wand back on the sleeve’s hostler before she turned around.

She looked at him with a bored expression on her face. “Whatever do you mean, Draco?”    

“I saw Greyback.” There was a tint of fear in his voice or disgust. The brunette wasn't sure. 

“I see” Hermione knitted her eyebrows, he got completely her attention “Did they send you to pick—?"

“No.” A grimace appeared on his face. “I saw him in the cellar.” Hermione could see him reliving the memory in his mind.

“I see.” She looked at him expectantly waiting to make his point. She could tell by Draco’s expression that he seemed bothered by her lack of reaction.

“So, I’ll ask you again, who are you?” Draco asked firmly.   

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. Even though she didn’t appreciate the demanding tone in his voice, she smiled. “I still don’t understand your question.”

“I might have not spent time with Granger at Hogwarts, but the Hermione Granger I knew would never do this. She was a person with only goodness in her. She would never do something like… like _this_. You are not her.” He seemed convinced of his words.

Hermione rolled her eyes _‘Really?’_

“So, you think that I’m what exactly? Another witch or wizard drinking Polyjuice, stealing the real Hermione’s hairs for the potions? That sounds a tat stupid, doesn’t it? Especially in the long run. And more importantly what would be the purpose?”

“Barty Jr. did it.”

Hermione snorted; he had a point there. “That he did.”

“And the purpose would be to make her look bad.”

“I see you have thought things through.” Hermione smiled indulgently.

The brunette extended her hand, indicating the boy to take a seat as she walked to do the same. Hermione visibly flinched, sucking air through her teeth as her injured back made contact with the backseat. She closed her eyes, waiting for the waves of pain to fade away. 

Draco eyed her curiously, before taking a seat on the one-piece sofa closest to Hermione. 

She snapped her fingers in the air. In no time a young Elf appeared beside her.

“You called, Miss?”

“Bring us two cups of tea. Any tea. Thank you”

 “Yes, Miss.”

 “Granger was against the servitude of elves,” Draco said, looking at her skeptically.  

Hermione raised both eyebrows, she flashed a pleasant smile. “I’m surprised you know these little details about me Draco, considering how antagonistic you were with me at Hogwarts. At best, I guess I expected for you to remember calling me mudblood in the second year or perhaps you hitting me with Densaugeo jinx just not so long ago; at worst, you remembering my last name. But never more than that.”

A smile formed on his lips, recalling the memory of that unfortunate accident. Hermione cast him a reproachful glare.

The boy cleared his throat before speaking again. “What can I say? you were very vocal about elves having rights.”

 _‘Indeed, I was very vocal. I wonder the exact time that idea went to die? Probably the same day when to even hear the word goodness made me want to puke.’_ Hermione sat still in silence. So many changes had happened in her life that had turned her into a completely different person. She had to admit; it was very weird to have Draco Malfoy across from her asking her ‘who she was’ because the boy wasn’t sure if she was Hermione Granger.

She didn’t own him an explanation, she could just as easily dismiss him and send him away. Antagonize him just as much as he did to her at Hogwarts. 

_‘But perhaps…’_

“I remember being 4 years old when a couple and their daughter moved into a house next to our neighbors. I can almost clearly recall the day they were moving in, mostly because their daughter was carrying a doll in her arms that I’ve been asking my parents to buy me.”

Hermione watched Draco listen to her attentively.

“Days later I saw her playing with that toy in the local playground. I really wanted to play with that toy, you know. So, I approached her. My mother always told me to start with a compliment when meeting someone new. So, naturally, the first thing I did was to compliment her on the dress she was wearing. I remember her smiling back at me, but as soon as the smile appeared on her face, it fell. Then she pushed me back, telling me to sod off. You must understand that that’s not how muggle children behave. Normally, they are polite, like in wizardry Britain.”

The elf appeared with the tray on her hands. The brunette dismissed her as soon as she settled the tea set on the side table next to her. While Hermione enchanted the teapot, cup, and saucers, she continued her story.

“What happened next was that I fell on a small puddle in the sandbox, she is older than me, therefore, she was stronger at that time. I remember crying so much that everyone in the park turned to look at me. Her parents were near there. They immediately scold her; they apologize to me and later to my parents. But Maisie, that’s the girl’s name, rubbed me the wrong way after that. And I don’t say that just because she pushed me, but because she had this look on her face, cold, detached, unfeeling. I thought she was scary. It didn’t even pass two months when my parents warned me to stay away from her. Apparently, she had created herself the reputation of being a troublesome kid around the neighborhood. I heard she pushed one kid into a construction hole. Then I heard another kid had several small burns on his arm, all made by her.”

 “Once I became older started to wonder, why someone like her has such loving and kind parents and yet seek to cause suffering to others?”

“Maybe she wasn’t that bad…” Draco said.

“Oh, trust me, she is. She just has it under control right now.”

“The letter to Hogwarts arrived that year, and I forgot all about that family. It was till last year during summer vacation, that I saw her again after so long. I was sitting in the park near my house when she approached me. I must say, that day she looked so normal. That look on her face that used to unnerve me wasn’t there anymore. We talked for a moment, idle chat I think because I can hardly remember what it was. But after a few minutes, she bought up her past misdeeds and apologized for what she did to me when we were kids. Then I asked her why she did it. Do you know what she said?”

Draco shook her head.

“She said: ‘My prefrontal cortex doesn’t work.’”

“What’s that?” He asked, rather puzzled. 

“Here.” Hermione pressed a finger on her forehead “Is something that either you are born with it or not. This part of our heads regulates our behavior. It is the thing that makes you feel guilty when you do something you think is wrong. I think it’s what keeps us civilized. People like her could kill her own parents and not feel an ounce of sadness or guilt.”

“But she apologized to you because she felt something isn’t?”

“Of course not!” Hermione replied. “She did it because her parents were watching her and she had to do that exercise which was ordered by her doctor to apologize to those who have wronged, thus that would help her somehow. She chose me because I was closer, that’s all.”

 “Can you imagine it? Not feeling any emotion? No sympathy or compassion.” There was something tempting in having those qualities. But then she thought of her parents and couldn’t fathom the idea to not feel love for them.

“No,” Draco mumbled. He seemed to share the same train of thought as Hermione. To become an unfeeling being, if only for a second.

“Neither can I. Yet that day I saw Maisie seemingly well adjusted. When I said that to her, she said that was all thanks to the support of her parents and doctors.”

“You see, Draco.” Hermione stared intently at him. “I’m telling you this story not because I’m like Maisie, but to teach you this: The people that are beside you, your friends and family, they can stop you or they can make you become a monster. Take out the monster that lurks inside of some of us. It is the love and care that surrounds us which keeps the monster behind the curtain. Can you imagine if Maisie had abusive parents? That instead of love and support, she’d received hate and torture. There is no doubt in my mind that she would have turned out very different from what she is right now. The evil monster that she has would have overtaken her. Lucky for her, and for many people if you think about it, she has parents who love her unconditionally.”

“I’d like to think that she got the right push in the right direction.”

“As for myself, I got the right push in the wrong direction.” She chuckled darkly. Her path was built by circumstance and the ill will of her closest allies. This time though, she will create her own circumstances.

The doors that she had been waiting to be opened finally did. Voldemort’s servant came out. Hermione unconsciously wrinkled her nose. She did that every time she saw him. The man always looked dirty even when he wore clean clothes. Not only that bothered her, but his rat-face was insulting to the brunette’s eyesight.  

 “My Lord will see you now.” Said the rat-face man.   

Hermione spared one last look to Draco, who watched the whole scene with morbid curiosity, and wondered if she could spill the same level of bullshit to Voldemort. Made up a story just as she did right now.

She stepped inside the lord’s quarters; the room as always was dark with little sources of light. The man sat in the center of the room, on the same seat when she came last time weeks ago. He was petting Nagini while talking parseltongue with her.

“Ah, Hermione. I’m surprised you came to see me.” She felt a lump in her throat. “But come on, don’t stand there. Sit and tell me why are you here.”

No, she could not.        

It was one thing to lie to a gullible boy, another different thing to lie to Voldemort. Especially if Nagini was present.

For the first time, Hermione wondered if telling the truth would be worse than hiding it. But if he were to discover that she lied to him. There was no room for doubt in her mind that the punishment would be worse than could be if she were to tell the truth.

She’d be a fool to not be afraid of him.

Hermione pulled her wand of her sleeve, a placed it on the center table. Voldemort looked at her with interest. She had rendered herself at his mercy, with the hope that this would speak volumes of her good intentions. Yet, her heart threatened to escape from her ribcage and her throat never felt so dried in her life.

Nagini’s head rattled and shudder, bowing forward.

Slowly she swallowed, her throat worked to bring her voice back.

Only took a short glance at those red eyes.

_‘He already knows.’_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it or didn't, let me know and don't forget to comment. 
> 
> Hmm...I think I'm abusing Hermione too much. Poor girl. Well, people say hardships are character builders.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU START: This chapter is narrated in spiral, that means it goes from past to present. I'll let you guess which part is the past and which part is the present. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine, and only mine. You are bound to find a lot of them, probably. If someone wants to postulate themselves as my beta reader, let me know in the comments.

Hermione had managed with little effort to jump from her window’s bedroom. Strong bipedal paws landed with ease unto the grass down below. Mindful to not being seen by anyone, she passed next to the family’s greenhouse that led to the nearest side of the forest, holding her breath as she ran through it. Luck was on her side, for the detection Charms didn’t activate. It seemed likely she was allowed into the grounds no matter the shape or form of her body.

The sensation of freedom overtook her as soon as she was surrounded by nothing but trees and untamed wilderness. Perhaps, the lack of freedom to come and leave whenever she desired so, was gradually turning suffocating. And she didn’t resent it till now. Despite having not experienced any dull moment in this mansion, the fact that she had to be on her guard all the time was becoming quite exhausting. She missed her autonomy now more than ever.

Being here alone, suddenly felt a new and so welcomed experience.

Shining golden eyes looked around, taking in the scenery. Hermione was amazed by how acute and precise her vision was. Everything was so bright in a place of almost complete darkness. All this time she thought the reason for the brightness was because of the lights in the room or in the dungeons at Hogwarts what allowed her to see clearly. But no, these eyes were made to see in the darkness. 

_‘It’ll explain why Lupin never struggled to pursue us in the forest.’_ Thinking of Remus didn’t bother her as much as before. She still blamed him, and part of her will never entirely forgive him. After all, it was his mistake that triggered this chain of events. But the fact that her stomach didn’t boil anymore every time his name would come up in her thoughts was already evidence of some degree of acceptance.

Her gaze drifted downwards; the ground seemed so far now in comparison with her human size. Her long strong paws pressed against soft mud. She enjoyed the cool sensation as the mud simmered through the slits of her paws. There was something otherworldly in feeling the soil under her feet for the first time.  

Her paws carried further into the forest. She throttled with her head pointing upwards, smelling the sweet scent of wildflowers and the scent of bitter wood. The smells could almost be tasted on the roof of her muzzle. She could hear the faint squeaks, bellows, and screeches of woodland animals. However, none seemed to be nearby for she couldn't see anything. 

Her senses had never been so keen.

Wanting to see what else this body could do; Hermione ran as fast as she could. Her paws kissed the land, branding the ground with the shape of her steps. Wind wiped across her face and brushed through her thick layer of fur. The increasing excitement ran in her veins as her muscles stretched and contracted with every push. With her strong heart and steady breathing, she continued pushing forward.

She moved with such ease as if she has been doing it for a very long time. Which it was strange considering she had never attempted to get acquainted with this body. Did it come by instinct? Like a baby that doesn’t understand the concept of crawling. Yet, they do it naturally nonetheless? Hermione wondered.

She woefully regretted the many opportunities she had before to see what this body was able to. She doesn’t remember when was the last time she had so much fun without restrictions of any sort.

Everything felt amazing. Regardless of the ubiquitous longing inside her chest, Hermione managed to put it behind for a moment, and completely bask in this new experience.

The sound of flapping wings reached her sensitive ears. The werewolf turned her head upwards.  Bats were filtering across her head, making her gradually decreased her speed. She watched the dark and large colony of bats screeching and flying among the trees. Her ears twitched at the sound of insects droning incessantly.

Attracted by the chirping of cicadas, the werewolf stood up in two paws and kept walking till she found herself standing on knee-high grass of an endless forest. The grass still held the warmth of late afternoon sunlight. In the forest's darkness, green tiny lights ignited by the ones and twos. Not a second later, as her body pushed the straight lines of grass, awakening the little insects from its slumber, green lights appeared all around her.

She had never seen so many fireflies gathered in one place. It felt like she was having her own personalize little show of stars. The orchestra of cicadas accompanied the display of lights, and the hoot of the owls chimed in from time to time.

_‘Incredible…’_

A child-like sense of wonderment filled her chest, enveloping her consciousness. What a foreigner feeling that was! Very strange but not unwelcomed. She embraced it with open arms, for deep in her mind she knew that a feeling like this might never come again, at least not soon. And without any other thought in her mind, she slowly lay down on the grass. Enthralled by the inky sky and its infinite, with bright, flashing stars and planets traveling across space.

Her muscles lost its tightness, kneading the tension away by only lying still. Her heartbeat played a slow rhythmic tune that lulled her into a stage of full relaxation. She didn’t know how much time when her eyelids became heavier. In no time she drifted to sleep.

When Hermione opened her eyes again, she saw the moon wasn’t in the sky anymore. That could only mean the night was soon to become morning. She needed to go back to her room before the sun came out.

But before the werewolf could take the first step, she realized there was no path to go back to.

She was lost. 

Pushing down any twinge of anxiety, Hermione took in a deep breath. The smell of wood and green fill her lungs, but there was something else too lingering in between, she couldn’t tell what though. The young witch inhaled deeply again; it was something metallic, like iron maybe. Being the only clue to find her way back, Hermione followed the smell.

She looked up to the sky again; there wasn’t any sign that sunlight was about to come out soon. Stars kept shining, but not that bright either. The sense of urgency started to creep into Hermione. She kept moving hastily, not willing to risk being transformed back in the wilderness.

The smell started to become more intense as Hermione approached.

There a was worn path with the tall grass and the small plants on both sides were roughly mangled, her instincts told her that something or someone passed by recently, but the smell were many to distinguish which one belonged to what exactly. When stepped on the path, she flinched at the little sharp things incrusting in her paws. Hermione saw what it seemed several pieces of dried but pointy bark scattered all over. Like someone was purposely removed the bark from the trees.  

The werewolf took a deep breath again. The air smelled of dirt and food, something akin to butter. Perhaps bread. Another breath, even deeper this time. The fur in her neck stood up by instinct, Hermione growled as she recognized the metallic smell. It wasn’t iron like she thought at the beginning. It was copper.

The tang of blood. 

She looked around, searching for another telling of what might lie ahead of, but she found none. Driven by curiosity and lack of direction, the werewolf ventured forward.

Her ears twitched at the faint noises of whimpers. The little cries of something or someone became clearer with every step she took forward.

Hermione prostrated herself in four legs and approached carefully. A gust of wind ran through her body and with it a foul stench. She froze in place, pointing her snout upwards, she breathed in once more. The acrid smell was barely tolerable.

It smelled of the dead, cut flesh, and the pungent smell of body stench.

Death smelled as if the very odor itself penetrated her nostrils and tried to scoop the insides of her face.

The werewolf flashed her sharp teeth in recognition of the body stench.  

_‘…Greyback!’_

It was the small human-like cry what drove the girl to approach closer. She put her paws on the ground with the grace of a feline stalking her prey, mindful to no step on dried leaves or twigs. Not a moment later, her eyes became bigger as she drank the sight before her. A werewolf, of grey almost white fur, stood up in two legs, with its arm raised on the air holding an almost dying elf hanging from between his fingers.

Her eyes drifted at the ground, where tiny little elves’ corpses, some limbless, others headless lied next to his paws. Yellow eyes narrowed, studying from afar that none of the bodies were eaten, not even gnawed. Yet, the blood was still gushing from a couple of them.  Greyback dismembered them as some sort of sick entertainment.

The whole scenery was utterly gruesome, this was a new level of cruelty that she never imagined could ever exist.

Despite the overwhelming stench of blood and the disgusting smell of Greyback, Hermione could barely detect it, but it was there in the air. The smell of spices and roast. Those elves used to work in the kitchens. The little one hanging from Greyback's hand had the distinctive smell of sweet bread. Hermione noticed that his free arm was broken, making it impossible for him to do apparition.

_‘He probably broke everyone’s hands before becoming a werewolf.’_

Horror and terror were on the little elf’s face. He shut his big eyes tightly as Greyback enclosed his fragile neck between his long claws. Just when Hermione thought he was about to rip off his head, the werewolf stopped.

Hemione, confused by this, observed with interest. Her ears moved at the sound of the grey maned werewolf taking in short sniffs multiple times before she could realize what was happening. Greyback turned around only to set his black eyes on her.

Anger at herself was the first emotion to invade her for being too stupid _. ‘If I can smell him, he can smell me…’_ But then it quickly morphed to fear.

The werewolf released the elf from his grip, his frail body fell onto the rest corpses. Greyback’s savage eyes focused on the girl. Hermione saw recognition flashing on his bright eyes. He knew who she was. And yet, his threatening demeanor didn’t diminish in the slightest. On the contrary, Greyback opened his mouth displaying his deadly teeth into what seemed a menacing grin. There were streams of saliva running down his lower jaw to the floor.

Hermione growled in warning. Instinctively, she raised hackles to make herself look bigger. She flashed her equally sharp teeth and showed her claws by extending her arms. 

The younger werewolf growled again, loudly this time. But the only thing she earned was a mocking snort.

Though Hermione's claws were long and sharp, they were nothing compared to Greyback’s, his claws were twice as long, thicker and sharper. Two sets of deadly weapons, held by two strong limps. Greyback’s bulky size overshadowed hers with ease. 

For every step the grey werewolf took, she took one step behind.  Hermione knew she wasn't a match for him. At least, not in this body. If he wanted to kill her, there was nothing stopping him from doing it.

Sensing the deadly intent in those eyes, adrenaline-filled she turned around and ran.

She ran as fast as she could. Her eyes drifted upwards. The grey of dawn was already in the sky.

She didn’t need to look back to know Greyback was approaching fast, as his foul stench became more pronounced by the second. Her legs pushed abruptly to the right, taking a sharp turn on the left. Her first thought was to go back to the mansion, but she didn’t know where to go. There wasn’t any landmark on her sight that could guide her, and the only smell she could sense was the stench on the wolf behind her.

Her heart hammed against her chest. Panic was cursing through her body, halting any rational thought but to stay alive whatever the cost. 

Feeling his presence almost at her talons again, Hermione took another sharp turn. This time, as her limps tilted 30° to press against the ground and impulse on the contrary direction, she caught a glimpse of sharp claws almost grasping her head. If she hasn’t lowered her head at the last moment, Fenrir would have managed to severely hurt her at the very least. Because he was so close to catching her, the grey werewolf lost his balance, rolling against the ground.

Having been able to put a little distance between them, Hermione launched her body to a tree, desperately clawing her way up. Her claws pierced the bark, pieces were shot like water when it sprinkles, all in different directions. Her breath was ragged, but not from lack of oxygen. She was never felt so vulnerable. Desperation and fear fueled her efforts to climb, but ultimately, she was too slow.

Everything happened so fast that she barely registered the strong grip of his hands pulling her down, and in a quick move, his claws painfully scratched her back. By his strength alone she was dragged down and threw on across the opposite side. She landed against a large rock incrusted in the ground.

Hermione howled at the impact.

She blinked several times, trying to dispel the blurry vision.  Her feet scramble on the ground, urging her body to stand up and run. She stood up as fast as she could, balancing her weight while her eyesight slowly recovered from the dizziness. 

Greyback watched her struggling with cruel amusement in his eyes, she could smell it, taste it even. There was blood in his fangs, dripping from his chin. He licked his claws for some reason Hermione didn't understand.

He was having fun with her, just like he had fun with the elves. 

The werewolf lunged forward with one arm aiming at her. It a successive movement the girl used her claws to throw dust from the ground into Fenrir’s eyes. Blinding him momentarily, she took this chance to run. Hermione focused on her surroundings again, there was nothing but the sound of running water on her left side. 

A clearing and a small creek came in sight, she ran next to the stream knowing it passed close to the mansion’s grounds, all she needed was to follow it. Fear was feeding the adrenaline in her body, unable to feel anything but terror. 

Hermione looked behind her as she ran. There weren’t any signs that Greyback was following her. She took no relieve on that as her instincts kept screaming to keep running.  Her eyes looked up to the sky, sunlight was about to come anytime now. The young witch continued running as fast as her limps allowed her to, no hesitating in speed.  

_‘If I can make to the mansion then I can…Just a little longer.’_

Out of nowhere, a strong force came from her right and collided against her. It knocked her to the ground; she rolled several times before she came to a stop. The girl made the effort to push herself up, but before she could even raise her head, Greyback was already on top of her. He grabbed her by the neck, then dragged her violently to the water stream.

Before Hermione could see where he was dragging her, the young werewolf was already submerged in water. She kicked, clawed and pushed, whatever she could do to escape his grip. What she could only do was to watch the air leaving her lungs. Fenrir had a large part of his weighing down her body. 

After a few seconds, he pulled out her head only to submerge it again.

The more she struggled; the more Fenrir’s grip on her neck tightened. The horrible sensation of water entering her lungs raised the panic in her body. She felt close to drowning, but Greyback pulled her out again. Then, he pushed her again.

Fear like this, colder than ice and holding her heart in a vice grip. The blood in her veins felt like it was coated in black ice. Her stomach was iron, heavy and solid. As if death, the thing, the person she has been eluding for so long wished to greet her for a final time. She felt all this before. So many times she has feared for her life, so many times she was at the edge of life and death. This would not be the last one. This was nothing, _nothing…_

_‘NOTHING!’_

_‘I WON’T DIE!’_

Hermione clawed the arms that were holding her, piercing the thick skin with her claws, blood started to drip. Greyback was about to hit back when the first rays of light appeared in the sky. And with that, the transformation began, his limps started to become less sharp and human, his weight and strength rapidly decrease, Hermione could feel it. She quickly flexed her hindleg, then with a short but strong kick on his chest, she pushed him away from her. At that very moment, the transformation began in her body as well. 

Hermione crawled out of the creek, curving herself in a spine wrecking cough fit. Water still lingered in her lungs. Spatters of saliva and water continue falling from her mouth till she transformed back to her original body

Greyback was already on his feet, he clutched his chest tightly, while blood dribbled between his chest and the palm of his hand, it went down all the way to his crotch. Another trail of blood ran from his wrist to his elbow. Hermione turned to look at him, his demeanor hadn’t changed in slightest, the man had a vicious look in his eyes. He licked his lips lasciviously, looking her up and down like a piece of meat, his tongue licked over his bloodied teeth.

“I told you.” He rasped as if there were dust in his voice. “Sooner or later I was going to get even, but now I—” A flame hit him on the chest, charring his skin just like Hermione had done in her hand during her training with Bellatrix. He howled in pain, stepping backward, pushed by the pain and the force of the impact. Black eyes widened in shock, not expecting the wandless magic.

Quickly, his face morphed into rage, almost matching the dislocated look on the girl. His eyes narrowed as he saw the girl raising her arm again, sensing another attack Greyback ran and launched himself at her, his arm extended ready to neutralize the girl’s hand.

From the tip of her finger, a light-blue jet came out, sharp like a dagger. It happened so fast that it took him seconds to realize what she had done.

His arm was severed. It fell with a soft thud on the ground.

If there was any howl of pain, she never heard it. If there was blood sprinkling on her face, she never felt it. Her voice, loud as the roar of a lion, and with her eyes fixed on the target, Hermione pronounced the next spell.

 “Diffindo!”

This time the cut draw vertically on his chest a perfectly straight line, it wasn’t deep yet enough to stagger any step forward he wished to take. The witch pushed the man to the ground by another swift motion of her finger. 

Calmly, she approached the struggling body on the ground. She loomed over him, gazing down with hate and disgust. She watched his mouth being filled with his own blood, quickly coming out from the corner of his lips.

He bared his teeth painted with blood, then opened his mouth as if he was trying to speak out loud, but the gushing blood escaping from it hindered any of speech.

His eyes became bigger as the girl’s feet loomed above his neck. The same eyes almost bulged out of his skull as the girl stepped on it multiple times, her heel digging deep, pushing the Adam apple. Her vicious kicks stopped till she heard the soft crack of his collapsed trachea. Gurgling sounds were the only noise he could make in a futile attempt to gasp for air.

Brown eyes never strayed from the desperate, fearful ones as she pointed her finger at him. Then, Hermione hit him with all she had. Her arm moved in the air like an Orchestra’s director does when they are playing a rapid melody. Up and down, left and right. Her finger moved with precision and strength, her wrist with grace and ease. She burned and cut him. She did it till her arm hurt. Till the emotion of how indefensible and pathetic he made her feel was erased from her present consciousness. Till the panic that still gripped her heart finally decided to release its hold. Till the moment Hermione felt she had recovered her position of power, that’s when she stopped.

If there was any moment during her attacks, that Greyback managed to utter a word, if he begged for mercy, Hermione never heard it. For she could only hear the beating of her heart and the sound of her voice casting spell after spell.

She stared at his face. Until the light of his fearful eyes faded away, leaving an empty body behind.

Slowly, she turned around. Her steps were short but firm. Suddenly, the so marvelous feeling of cool mud under her soils became more of an irritating sensation, something that no one should experience. 

The running water felt cold to her feet. She sat in it and looked the water wash away the blood on her body.

* * *

To Hermione, it felt like the air itself had rushed out of the room after she finished her side of the story. There was a lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times she swallowed. She didn’t know what to expect from Voldemort, but she knew it wouldn’t be a pat on the back.

“Greyback was very violent. A savage animal of sorts. That was the main reason why I wanted him in my front lines.” Piercing red-eyes set on her. “Nevertheless, he never attacked one of mine. Ever.”

As her gaze dropped to the carpet, she tried to swallow again that cotton on her throat. Right now, not even water could bring relieved to her dried throat. She understood how bad it looked for her from the outsider’s perspective. While she ended up having some injuries, there was no point of comparison for what Greyback received in retaliation. It was hard to explain her actions at this point, without looking completely innocent.

As if Voldemort had read her mind, he added. “Lucius came before you, he filled me on what he saw. He mentioned the body was hard to recognize.” 

 “My Lord, I swear to you that everything I did was in self-defense.” Her words uttered with utmost sincerity yet didn’t earn any reaction from the man in front of her, who remained displeased at her actions. “But if you doubt of my words, I’ll lower my Occlumency shields for you to see yourself.” Hermione dug her nails into her palms, scared to have Voldemort’s presence in her mind. But if there was a chance that could free her of punishment, she was willing to submit herself to the probably painful experience. 

But when she raised her head to face him, Voldemort wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking down at the snake on his lap. The dark wizard’s lips moved ever so lightly.  His fingers barely touch the scales of the snake’s skin, she found it mesmerizing how he touched her so delicately, almost like a lover.

There was nothing she could do or say but sit still and watch the subtle exchange between master and pet. Watching them like this, Hermione wondered how much influence had Nagini over Voldemort.   

When his sight returned to the girl’s direction, the expression on his face had slightly faded.

“Did something else happened?” He asked.

* * *

There were things that Hermione wasn’t aware of.  She didn’t know that her hands were shaking, in contrast with the apparent calmness on her face. She was sure the only injury she had was a small bruise on her back and not the angry open wound that she actually had. Neither was she aware that there was a bite in her forearm which begged for medical attention. And more importantly, she never heard the distinctive sound of apparition a few meters from her. Nor the loud gasp that came seconds after. 

Silent steps a blonde woman approached the girl sitting in the water. Her eyes remained fixed on the small body, for her mind couldn’t bear to gaze at the dismembered body a few meters from her. 

“Granger...” Her voice was soft, almost tentative.

Blue eyes searched for the girl’s face. Which she hid behind a curtain of wet brown hair, where mud and dried leaves had made a home. Her pale body was painted with red marks, purple bruises and open wounds. Very slowly, Narcissa kneeled beside the girl, and put aside her brown hair. The girl's expression was drawn with an eerie calmness, but her eyes betrayed her brittle confidence. Exhaustion was present in those brown orbs, there was more blackness than brown inside those eyes. Said eyes were rimmed with red and gray.

Narcissa has seen it before, in her husband and in her sister. By now she could recognize it in anyone by a mile away.

The aftershocks of battle. Sometimes not even the most seasoned wizards could avoid such jarring feelings that the fights often brought after.

Hermione came back to reality blinking away whatever thoughts clouded her mind. She turned to look at the woman and stared at her for what felt a long time as if she was trying to discern whether or not she was hallucinating.

“What are you doing here?” There was no emotion in her voice. There was nothing else betraying in her face that didn’t already her eyes betrayed.

Narcissa extended her hand, an invitation to get out of the water. Hermione untangled her arms and accepted the help. As the girl stepped outside, Narcissa’s eyes went bigger at the mark of teeth on the brunette’s forearm. “Did he bite you?!” She asked with alarm in her voice.

The girl looked at the bite on her right limp, it was relatively shallow but it still managed to break the skin. And just for a second, the thought of pretending to be equally or even more surprised than Narcissa crossed her mind.

But the lie could carry her only so far.

Hermione was so exhausted of all this.

“Yeah… I think he did.” She said, not sharing the same worried face that the woman had.

 “Don’t you realize what this means? Granger, I don’t have anything to stop the infection of lycanthropy. The only one is Severus and you cannot go to an hospi—"

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Narcissa stopped rambling at the unfazed expression the brunette maintained. Up to that moment, her gaze finally drifted from the girl’s face. She looked at the girl’s body up and down. Then, she took one short glance at what was supposed to be Greyback’s body.

The blonde woman took a step back, her eyebrows slightly raised. “You are already infected with lycanthropy.”  Her voice was no more than a whisper. Confusion and shock were painted on her features. Her lips moved in silence as if she was about to speak, but in the end, she gave up.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. “That’ll explain why I’m naked.” An attempt to smile was made, but a grimace took shape on her lips instead. The girl pressed her lips into a thin line, as an attempt to hide the shivers caused by the cold.

It'll be months later that she was willing to recognize that the origin of those tremors was because she was afraid.

Narcissa, finally broke out from her daze, quickly undid the knot on her neck and removed her cloak, then place it on the girl’s back.  “Let’s go. Your injuries need treatment.” 

Considering how unnerving this all was, for the first time, the brunette didn’t argue.  
Her body and mind craved for at least a little respite before she did anything else. “I want to go to my room.”

Narcissa kept silent, she pulled the wand from her pocket. In a blink, they were outside of Hermione’s room.

“I set extra anti-apparition charms and jinxes since I arrived.”  The girl weakly said, anticipating Narcissa’s inquisitive gaze of why she couldn’t apparate inside a room from her own house.

Once she crossed the threshold, Hermione headed to the bathroom “I’m going to clean myself.” She didn’t wait for a reply.

As soon as the door was closed. Like a punch in the stomach, reality hit her; finally breaking all her barriers of self-control and strong will. They crashed like crystals in the face of her consciousness. In two large steps, she was grasping the sink, using the cold edges as support while her stomach emptied itself.

It is amazing what a body can resist when it is filled with adrenaline, seconds ago she felt relatively fine. But now that her body finally stopped pumping that lifesaving chemical and her heart rate returned to normal, her body was started to suffer the burnout of her fight and the traumatic experience of almost dying, again.

Hermione was dry-heaving, but waves nausea kept coming. Despite having no food to throw, her stomach kept convulsing till yellow-colored saliva came out.

The pain came striking from all sides. Though it was hardly a walk in the park to have her back scratched, a bite in her arm and several bruises, she noticed that her tolerance to pain was getting better and better.

She inhaled and exhaled, then closed her eyes and waited for the waves to reside.

She inhaled and exhaled, then closed her eyes and waited for the waves to fade.

She breathed again, deeper, calmer.  

Brown eyes opened; she was greeted by her own reflection. Her hands gripped the edge tightly, till her knuckles turned white. She looked into the mirror as if she didn’t recognize the person in there. She was 16 years old but felt like she aged 10 years in the short span of 3 months. She didn’t look like a teenager anymore.

Her eyelids closed again, flashes of Greyback being butchered by her cursed through her mind.

_‘What happened...What did I do?’_

 “I killed Greyback…” She murmured. “I killed Greyback because he tried to kill me.”

Her mind felt dizzy, disoriented, her thought her disjointed and barely coherent. All the raw emotions were stepping on her abdomen. She sat on the edge of the bathtub. Her hands ran through her head were mud and leaves hanged in among her hair. She didn’t care. Her mind was measuring the consequences of her actions, seeing all the possible outcomes that her brain could come up with.

The throbbing in her chest didn’t help either, now that she remained unmoving, it was becoming harder to ignore. Fortunately for her when she reached the lowest drawer under the sink, there was a small vial to numb her.

A sudden knock on the door startled her. “Miss Granger, is everything alright?”

Narcissa was in her room…

A cold shiver ran from the nape of her neck to her heels. The gut-wrenching sensation came back doubled. 

Narcissa saw her.

_‘Narcissa knows!’_

“Y-Yes! I-I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Do you need clothes?”

“No. Is fine.”

_‘I’m fine, everything is bloody fine!’_

She eyed the shower. “I’ll be out in 5 minutes.” 

*

With her hand on the doorknob, Narcissa had half-mind to enter and truly verify if the girl was indeed fine. The thought died once she heard the shower running.

With a heavy sigh, she stepped back. She clasped her fingers, calling her personal elf.

“Filqui.”

The small elf appeared in a blink of an eye; ready to take her mistress orders.

“How may Filqui serve you, mistress?” 

The blonde woman regarded her personal elf and the hunching posture she carried. The tired eyes and the fallen ears said everything. The elf was mourning the loss of her friends. “Bring me a Garrow Potion and some Amadoubil with two cloths.” She took a quick glance at the bathroom door. “After that, go and tell my husband to send someone to clean werewolf remains. It is northeast from here, just tell him to follow the creek up north.”

With a nod and a soft ‘pop’, the elf left the room.

As the sound of falling water continued, Narcissa survey around her guest’s living quarters. Her eyes were filled with curiosity and a certain reservation. The largest window was fully open, the lower end of the curtain had a stain of moisture usually caused by the morning dew. One flip of her hand to the left and the window closed. She walked towards the oval pattern that was covered by the curtain’s drapes. Her hand reached for the thinly veiled fabric and pulled down to uncover the cheval mirror. Meeting with nothing but her own reflection, she turned her body, noticing that the two smalls mirrors on her vanity were face down too.

There were little to none personal belongings on top of the vanity and dresser, at least nothing that wasn’t books or related materials. No photos, or another sort of sentimental object. There was a pair of muggle shoes placed at the foot of the bed. And some, probably dirty, muggle clothes on the floor next to the shoes. However, the girl’s robe rested on the bed carefully folded. 

Narcissa’s curious eyes wandered across the girl’s working place. Although it was tidy than before, the mess was still present; Piled up books, parchment and ink pots scattered over the table and other surfaces. Misplaced potion ingredients here and there. At last, some of those ingredients started to make sense to Narcissa. Most of them were used for the concoction of Wolfsbane potion. Aconite, silver dust, moonseed; all very expensive ingredients, how peculiar was that the girl seemed to have a large supply of them.

 “How does she afford it?”

Accidentally, her feet stumbled on a medium-sized wooden chest. The metal bands were rusty, yet the locking mechanism looked recently bought. Her eyebrows rose when she noticed the lock wasn’t actually closed.  Narcissa glanced up at the bathroom door. The door was still closed. Once she tried to open the chest, a strong shock ran through her hand. Narcissa removed her hand in record time at the first feeling of electricity running in her limp. To leave a second more would have been dangerous. 

“Blood charms. Smart girl.” The woman muttered under her breath.  

 A pile of books rested next to the tea table, between the two sofas. She reached for the one on top. It read: _Werewolves: Uncivilized Beasts._ She took the next one _Lycanthropy and its origins._

She frowned slightly at the sight of the next book’s title. It was slightly odd; _Veela’s mating rituals._

But before she could think more of it, something else caught her attention. A book among many scattered, it seemed recently used. It was big and heavy like a tome, with wrinkled parchment next to it. As if the girl had recently had taken notes, but then discarded them for some unknown reason.  

_The unbreakable boundaries of magic: Life, death, money— A comprehensive study of magic and its limitations._

She picked up the book; it was heavier than she expected it to be. Specks of dust were accumulated inside of its spine. Most of the brown leather that protected its pages, was falling into pieces. Narcissa proceeded to see take a seat on the lengthy sofa next to her. She gingerly flipped its pages. In contrast with the exterior, the interior seemed well-cared for. The smell of coffee and vanilla touched her nostrils, as well as fresh ink. She noticed that some sections had side notes recently written _._

  _The boundaries of life and its creation…_

_…Life cannot be harnessed, once extracted from its original body, vitality itself will vanish into the veil. However, there are registers of dark artifacts being able to…_

“How did you find me?” The sudden voice broke her concentration.

_*_  

If Narcissa was startled by the interruption, she didn’t show it. The woman calmly placed the book on the table and turned to the girl in acknowledgment. 

Hermione stood outside the bathroom, dressed in a thick bathrobe. She looked more like herself than moments ago.

“An elf, that I believe you inadvertently saved, came to me. He told me what happened and how he came to be free. He said that the last thing he saw was Greyback pursuing another werewolf into the forest. As soon as the sun came about. I went out to look smite the man myself.” 

‘ _How is it that every time something happens to me, you seem to appear all of a sudden?’_

The question was on the tip of Hermione’s tongue, urging to be voiced out. Yet, her conscience wouldn’t let her. It felt wrong to Hermione to be downright suspicious when Narcissa has done nothing wrong.

Adding the fact that yesterday’s talk didn’t go well for both, didn’t help her case in favor of utter those words. So she swallowed them.

An elf apparated next to Narcissa, one vial and pieces of cloth were handed to the blonde woman. Without any word, the elf left as quick as she arrived. 

Anticipating Narcissa’s intentions, she walked to the sofa and sat next to her.

“Show me your back.” The older woman said, handing the vial to the girl. “Recline your back forward.”

Hermione could feel something humid and warm reaching her skin. She guessed it was steam. What followed after was the intense smell of Amadoubil invading the air.

_‘Merlin. This is going to hurt…’_

 Hermione sucked air through her teeth at the contact; the cloth was too hot. She bent her back like a cat as the brown liquid filled her wound. Her back burned and itched at the same time.

 “Can’t you use Episkey?” Her voice was slightly grumpy.

 “No, the wounds are too deep. It’ll only close the…”

“…The skin on top, and not the muscle inside, which could lead to an infection or worse. Episkey is only for small bruises, cuts or disjointed limps. It mustn’t be used for anything else.” The words fell from her mouth bulky, awkward. As though someone had stuffed them in her mouth. “Yeah...” She chuckled “Madam Pomfrey was very energetic about the correct use.”

Hermione hissed again as the reheated cloth pressed tightly on her skin. Blood and Amadoubil mixed together ran down all the way to the girl’s lower back only be absorbed by the withe robe. She tried to curved her back again, but this time Narcissa grabbed her firmly by the shoulder. “Stop moving, Miss Granger.” Her voice was stern, like a mother scolding her child.  

 “How are you feeling?” Narcissa inquired after a few moments.  

Hermione had too many things in her mind at once, so many ideas and possibilities that couldn’t form into sentences. She felt too many things at the same time, fear mostly. Her mind was muddled by what had happened in the last hours. Thankfully her little time in the shower served to cement herself properly at the moment and to regain a modicum of control. 

“I’m fine.” Hermione bit her lip, at the sound of her own voice. It definitely didn’t come out as ‘fine’. She cleared her throat this time. “A little bit shaken I guess, but fine nonetheless.”  

The inner layers of skin started to merge together, provoking an acute pain in her back. Hermione almost jolted up from the sofa. “Do. Not. Move!” Said Narcissa, holding the girl in her place. “This is my last batch of this plant, don’t waste it.”   

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be ungrateful. It just too uncomfortable."

“I believe the ungrateful part has been already covered, Miss Granger. All I’m asking is for you to stop behaving like a child.” Narcissa spoke in her usual detached tone. 

Feeling the strings of guilt being played in her heart, Hermione bit her lip. “You are right. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, working up the words she wished to convey with honesty.  “I- I want to apologize for what I said to you yesterday. I never meant it” She looked behind her shoulder, searching for the woman’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry.”

“The arm,” Narcissa said, not meeting the girl’s gaze.

Hermione corrected her posture in such way that Narcissa was sitting next to her. She carefully pulled out her arm from the bathrobe, ripples of pain cursed on her arm with every motion.     

Not being punishment enough, Narcissa put more pressure than was necessary on the brunette’s wound, making her hiss loudly.

“And yet you said them,” Her voice was biting cold.

“I know, and I’m sor—"    

“I trust you are capable of taking care of this.” Said the blonde, indicating to Hermione to press the cloth on the injury. Hermione understood that her apologies were not wanted nor needed. So, she shut up and paid attention to her arm.

Narcissa stepped away from Hermione. When she turned around with her arms crossed over her chest, Hermione drank in the woman’s appearance for the first time since they met today. She looked beautiful.  

The blonde wore a simple yet elegant cobalt blue dress; it was conservative like many of her garments. Few loose silk-like strands of hair fell on her shoulders. The golden lines contrasted with the color of the fabric, making look like the top of the dress had needlework made of gold. The way she had fixed her hair told the girl it was done with haste, but her clothes and shoes told her that the woman wore nothing but tasteful attires even when she had the intention, like she said, to smite a man. Leave it to Narcissa that even in hasty situations she wore nothing but fashionable clothes.

Brown eyes connected with the blue ones; they were equally studying her as the owner sat in front of her. Sighing internally, she prepared for the storm of questions that were coming.

“What happened today, Miss Granger? And spare me the lies this time.” Narcissa’s eyes were measuring. Ready to analyze every word that was about to come out of the girl’s mouth. 

_‘I don’t even know exactly.’_

 “I went out for a run deep into the forest…” Her fingers pressed tightly on her wounded arm. Several shivers ran all over her body, this time the reason wasn’t because of the Amadoubil entering her flesh.

Hermione explained everything she could recall. Completely omitting the little but critical detail of why actually she left the room in the first place. 

“Did he recognize you? That moment when he saw you, I mean.”

“Yes, he did, at least I think so. I believe my smell gave it away.”

“And once you both turned human, he still went after you?”

_‘Not exactly.’_

“Yes,” Hermione replied convincingly. It wasn’t the time to doubt what happened during her moment of rage. Perhaps later, in the solitude of her room, she’ll revisit that memory that lacked details.

“He never uttered word?”

 “Does growling counts as speaking?” The brunette cracked a smile but wasn’t well-received by the blonde, who remained unamused. Internally, she rolled her eyes “I didn’t stop to have a conversation with him if that’s what you are asking.”

 Narcissa didn’t react at the girl’s snappy reply. The defensiveness in her words came more biting that she intended to. Afraid that Narcissa might see it as a telling sign that she wasn’t being entirely honest. “Honestly, I don’t understand what he was trying to accomplish.”   

“He had a grudge against you, for what you did to him.”

“And what was that?” Hermione scoffed “For being an accidental target from a spell I barely remember to cast?”

“That, and you antagonize him the night he confronted you.”

“That doesn’t justify him doi—”

“I’m not saying it does. However, I saw multiple times that when you both crossed paths, you sneered at him. No exception.” The usual cold tone grew suggestive. “You clearly disliked him.”

Hermione frowned, not appreciating what the woman’s implication in that statement. “He attacked me still thinking I was defenseless! I didn’t throw the first bite or spell if that’s what you are insinuating.”

Then, she paused for a moment, conceding Narcissa’s statement. “But yes, you could say that…” She shrugged her shoulders, wincing after the action. The wound on the back protested at the motion, although almost closed the flesh remained very tender. “Ugh... Considering the actual state of his body I know what you must think, but—”

 “I believe you, Miss Granger” Narcissa interrupted. “You were in shock not a few moments ago. No one can fake that. And seeing you now, I’m honestly surprised you can pretend that nothing happened.” Narcissa extended her hand, silently asking for the cloth on the girl’s arm. Like the other piece, she vanished into thin air. “But you’ll ever be so lucky if the Dark Lord believes your story and lets you walk out of punishment.”

* * *

“I approached Mrs. Malfoy, so she could help me treat my injuries. After that, I came to see you, my Lord.” It wasn't lying, Hermione convinced herself. She just didn't want to bore the man with so many details.    

A small smile appeared on his lips. Every time he did it, goosebumps appeared in her arms. “Ah, dear Narcissa, has she been treating you well? I understand she can be quite… disdainful towards her not-so-equals.”

"I’m must be lucky, then.” Hermione returned the smile “She has been nothing more than a gracious hostess to me, my Lord.”

* * *

 “I’ll ask you not to tell anyone about my Lycanthropy problem, please,” Hermione asked, while she adjusted the last buttons of her blouse. Her request has politely uttered, without any hint of urgency that the cells in her body vibrated with. Her mother always told her to not show when something was wished to be acquired because from that moment the man or woman who owned it could raise its value. She considered the same principle applied here. The brunette could only hope that Narcissa wouldn’t share this with anyone. If not, it’ll bring her a headache that she definitely didn’t need.

Hermione stopped looking at herself in the mirror and turned around to see Narcissa.

The blonde was perusing over the girl’s working desk, examining the few ingredients she had on display.

“Tell me, Miss Granger. Do you do your own wolfsbane draught?” She asked while she held the dried aconite flower between her fingers. Then slowly she approached it to her nose, clearly enjoying the sweet aroma.

 “…Yes.” Hermione eyed her suspiciously. 

“Impressive.” Her tone didn’t match the compliment. At the same time, the brunette couldn’t discern if she meant it or not.

When their eyes finally met; Hermione noticed the change almost immediately. Those blue eyes had turned into dried ice. Something told her that she wouldn’t like what was coming.

  “Draco got his first task.” The words were softly spoken, yet to Hermione, it sounded more ominous than anything else. “He needs help to complete it.” 

The flower was tucked carefully in a glass recipient.

“I want you to help him.”  Narcissa’s glare remained firmly fixed at Hermione.

_‘Want. Because a pureblood never asks. They demand.’_ Hermione’s stomach tightened; anger was already making itself known in the pit of her gut. “And if I refuse?” She asked, thrusting her nose into the air.

The blonde pressed her lips very lightly as a response to the girl’s defensiveness. Her sight dropped to the table where the books of lycanthropy she took earlier were placed.

“So, you want to blackmail me.” A dry chuckle came out from her lips. The muscles of her face tensed at seeing how fast Narcissa was willing to play dirty. _‘She couldn’t even wait a day.’_

_‘How desperate must she be to step this low?’_

Surely the Malfoy family wasn’t past blackmailing others. After all, rich families like them dabbed in politics and what was politics but filled with a bunch of backstabbing aspiring aristocrats. No, Hermione concluded, the new low for Narcissa had to be the need to blackmail a muggle-born thinking that otherwise said muggle-born won’t be willing to help.

 “Why don’t you ask your sister? I’m sure she would be willing to help you.”

“Bella can’t help him.” Said dismissingly

Behind the impenetrable ice-shield that Narcissa put on display, the brunette could feel the self-contained apprehensiveness irradiating from the woman’s body. She knew that Lucius and Narcissa had been losing sleep since Draco got his task. That was at least 3 weeks ago when she had an unsavory encounter with Lucius. They have been doing everything in their power and yet they couldn’t find any relief. Otherwise, she wouldn't be having this conversation with Narcissa.

She sneered; the brunette couldn’t care less what was the son’s task.

“And what about Snape, after all, he is Draco’s—” She clenched her jar abruptly as another question resurfaced in her mind. “…Since when?”

“Since when what, Miss Granger?” Her features remained impassive at the hissing voice.

“Since when have you been bidding your time?”

A flash of understanding crossed over the blue eyes.

“It's all over your face.” Hermione pointed out.

“That night when you offered to treat my injury. After I asked you why were you helping me, I thought you were lying. I thought you wanted something from me. Did it start from there?”

“No.” The woman sighed “It was the night when I found you with Severus.”

Hermione could ask Narcissa if Severus knew about Draco’s task. But she knew that would be useless, for she already knew the answer to that question. Severus was a close friend of the Malfoys, and more importantly Draco’s Godfather. She could bet her own wand that Severus was the first man to be requested for help.

And that was what it didn’t feel right to her. The brunette started pacing around the room in silent contemplation. Her mind wandered, placing all the possibilities on the burgundy walls of her room. Her eyes darted rapidly across the wallpaper as if her thoughts were written all over.

_‘Could this be related…?’_

It seemed too far-fetched, even in the privacy of her own mind. And yet, the more she thought about it, things started to make more sense. At least the time-line matched, but that could only be a coincidence.

Or not.

Severus Snape was clever and manipulative; nothing he did or said wasn’t without a purpose.  The fact that he deliberately told Narcissa a lie he knew she wouldn’t believe, was not an accident at all. Hermione _knew_ this.

But then, what was his intention? What did he gain by lying? What was he planning? That she didn’t know, and yet she couldn’t help but find it related it to this.  

_‘What does he gain for Narcissa to be suspicious of…me?’_

Her mouth slightly opened, inhaling air as her heart rate rose gradually. The brunette didn’t know whether to smile and admire his cleverness or to snarl and tear everything apart in a tantrum.  

 “He sent you to me…” Hermione whispered. 

She pushed down every emotion that threatened to tear her semblance of calmness. Hermione’s focus returned to Narcissa, who seemed confused by the girl’s sudden change of behavior. Brown eyes narrowed “You asked Severus to help Draco, and he refused you.” 

Aware that she wasn’t making any sense, Hermione tried again. “Severus deliberately lied to you, knowing very well you won’t believe him. That very lie led you to believe that I had something worth to be paid attention to. He manipulated you.” 

Narcissa's forehead wrinkled, ever so lightly while she connected the girl’s words with her own experience.

“Obviously, he didn’t plan for this specific situation to happen!” Hermione continued. “No one could have foreseen this! But he trusted that you will pay more attention to my behavior from that moment on. And eventually, you'd had figured it out all by yourself.” 

He knows about your curse…” Narcissa had finally caught up with the girl’s train of thought.

“He does.”

“Why wouldn’t he just tell me?”

 “Who knows how his mind works.” She flipped her hand dismissively.

Hermione clearly understood why. If Severus have told Narcissa directly, that would have been a breach of their verbal agreement. And that’d be a betrayal, one that he cannot afford. But this technicality wasn’t a breach, and Severus exploited beautifully.

Like many times before, she wondered if it was a mistake telling Severus the whole truth. The reason she told in the first place was that she needed someone to tell her side of the story or at least to know what really happened. Someone who was close to Dumbledore, who worked with him. Someone to know what kind of man was the headmaster of Hogwarts. And that man happened to be Severus.

Hermione had believed that Severus knowing her real circumstances eventually would turn up beneficial. But at this moment that conviction wavered, again.    

 “Be as it may, he was confident that you knowing will provide you the right tools for me to help you whether I wish it or not.”

The more the brunette thought about it, the less she found flaws in the man’s logic. She had to admire how utterly subtle of him. _‘He must be very intimately acquainted with Narcissa to predict the woman’s train of thought.’_

Narcissa might be able to school her features almost flawlessly. But what she could never hide, no matter how much she tried, was the intelligence that shined in those blue orbs. Just like her older sister, Narcissa possessed a sharp mind. And because that, Hermione knew this ‘random encounter’ couldn’t be as random as the woman led her to believe.

 “How did you _really_ find me?” Hermione asked.

The girl let the silence filter in the atmosphere as she continued looking at the blonde, waiting patiently for a response.

 “Originally, I’ve tasked the elves to keep a close eye on you.”

Those words grated at something in Hermione, morphing her expression into a scowl.

“The elf you saved, never saw you. He just remembers falling on the ground and Greyback leaving the place. It was a garden elf who saw a brown werewolf passing near the greenhouse heading to the forest. When he reported to me, I assumed the elf saw the incorrect color. When the sun came out, I tasked Filqui to track Greyback, instead, she found you.”

“You can imagine my surprise, Miss Granger, when I realize that the elf didn’t see the wrong color, after all.”

Of all the things Hermione did think of, this option never crossed her mind. She felt a little bit like a fool. The brunette could bring herself to be angry at the woman, all this happened because of Severus.

Needless to say, all her anger was focused on him.   

“Why did Snape refuse to help you?”

 “He didn’t. He actually agreed to help me, to a certain extent. However, I needed a guarantee that he’ll do good on his promise, so I asked him to do the unbreakable vow.”

The brunette raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. The unbreakable vow was a very serious binding spell. Although she was confident that Severus would be careful about how the vow was being phrased, no matter how specific it gets, an unbreakable vow often has loopholes that can be exploited.

“So, what would it be, Miss Granger?” Narcissa shortened the space between, her face reflected how tired she was of a conversation that was being unnecessarily taking too long. “You’ll still haven’t given me an answer.”

* * *

Without letting her words to sit too long in the air, the girl lowered her gaze in submission. “Whatever punishment you seem fit, my Lord, I’ll accept it.” 

There was nothing else she could say or do, but to wait for Voldemort to decide what to do with her. Hermione dried her sweaty hands on her robes, her stomach felt heavy as lead. She wondered if the Cruciatus curse hurt as much a Harry once described it. She pictured the face of the man Bellatrix cursed time ago; he was a trembling mess when Lestrange was done with him.

If the man decided to physically punish her, she’ll accept it. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’ll end up badly as the man Bellatrix tortured. Would it be even worse than Bellatrix’s Crucio?   

“Tell me, Hermione, do you regret killing him?” Voldemort asked, while he delicately petted Nagini with his knuckles. 

“No, my Lord.” She said almost reluctantly. 

“Even if it cripples my plans?”

“People like Greyback are replaceable, my Lord.” That was the most honest thing she had said today, Hermione thought. “I- I’ll set myself the task someone else to fill his place.”

“Do you believe yourself indispensable to my cause?” 

Hermione raised her head in surprise. Ashen white features were seemingly placid, but she could tell his eyes held a danger within. The man was, at the very least, annoyed with her. It wouldn’t do to act so sure of herself without knowing where he was heading at.

“No. I wouldn’t dare. For I’m replaceable as well.”

“Then tell me, what’s the difference between you and Greyback? Or you believe yourself and equal to him?”

Voldemort was all about hierarchy and power, or that’s what Nagini told her one day. He didn’t like people being extremely humble, at the same time it was prudent to not be overly confident. Even Bellatrix seemed to be not as arrogant and obnoxious in his presence.

However, Greyback would never be equal to her, ever. She knew it, and he knew it. 

“…When we faced each other, I managed to kill him wandlessly with a simple flick of my wrist. And there was nothing he could do but to die by my hand. There lies the difference my Lord, I’m still useful to you. If Greyback wasn’t able to defend himself. It means it wasn’t useful enough for you, my Lord.”

A short-lived smile formed in his mouth, if Hermione blinked, she surely would have missed it. His fingers kept caressing Nagini’s body, reveling in his master’s warm and gentle touch. The snake kept preening at the sensation while her head pointed at Hermione’s direction, her dark slits opening and closing with intent in those reptile eyes. For a moment, the girl thought Nagini was about to talk with her. But nothing came after, the snake just kept looking.

After a moment of silent consideration on his part, Voldemort took the girl’s wand from the table. He ran a finger across the wand’s body, examining its materials, shape, and color. “Wandless you say?”

The girl nodded.

He extended his arm and offered the wand to her. “Scabior was Greyback’s second in command, find him. Dolohov knows where he is.” Hermione grasped the wand but Voldemort held it thigh in hist fist. “ _Do not_ disappoint me, Hermione.”

The way he uttered the last words carried a heavy aura of menace with equal intimidation. Fail wasn’t an option, Hermione understood this.

A wave of relief wash over her, she nodded once. “I won’t, my Lord.” She swore it.

“We’ll gather tonight.” The man told her as he made a weaving motion, finally dismissing Hermione.

* * *

Hermione didn’t even consider her question, she outright refused.

The woman quickly recovered by blinking away the incredulous look on her face. “You don’t seem to understand your position, Granger you either help me or…”

“Or what?!” Her voice was all demanding, she felt at the very edge of losing her temper again, self-control be dammed. “What are you going to do? Who are you going to tell? The Death Eaters? Your husband or perhaps your sister?! Or better yet! are you going to tell Voldemort?!” Narcissa almost physically flinched at the dark wizard’s name being spoken out loud. “You are the one that doesn’t seem to understand, Mrs. Malfoy!  There is only one opinion that matters around here and that is our Lord’s opinion. And guess what? _He knows_.”

“…What?” Her eyes opened wide; confusion quickly settled on her face.

“He knows! He knew from the very beginning. Why do you think I’m here?” Hermione opened her arms, motioning her surroundings. “He recruited me for my abilities, being a werewolf was among the reasons he wanted me here.” _‘...And being imprinted to your maniac sister!’_

Hermione was fully aware that if there was a risk, it was Bellatrix knowing. But that Narcissa did not know that. Whatever power the woman thought she had over her; it didn’t exist.

“And even if he didn’t why would it matter? it is no secret that Greyback was a werewolf.”

“I asked to keep it a secret for the sake of my privacy. This matter is of no one’s concern but mine!” Hermione said, trying to ignore the thick tension growing in her jaw. “I-I was wondering why you couldn’t wait; how desperate must you be to try to blackmail me when you just healed me a few minutes ago and—” The brunette huffed in frustration. “But now I get it. You thought I was mentally fragile enough to easily give in to your blackmail.” 

Narcissa, however, didn’t seem to be listening to her anymore. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth moved silently, but aggressively. It almost looked like she was having an argument with herself. “I can’t believe this.” The blonde woman muttered, barely audible. “This is…This…Is just madness.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You are not aware of anything, are you?” The blonde gave her a contemptuous look. When the brunette remained silent, the woman’s expression morphed into something the girl hadn’t seen in a long time. “What makes you so valuable that he is willing to oversee your _little flaws_?” The blonde’s vocal cords vibrated with belittlement.

It was then when she saw Narcissa Malfoy. It felt like ages since the last time she set eyes on that woman. The one with the haughty expression; with the superiority flair which she carried herself by the virtue of her birth. The one that stood at King Cross station every beginning of the school year with an etched expression of disgust and supremacy in her face.

Would have been another person shooting a spiteful gaze just like Narcissa was doing it, Hermione would have matched it with equal measure. However, for the sake of familiarity, she made an effort to remain unfazed. Even more, as she continued watching the woman, she welcomed her. Like a sort of familiar face that someone sees every day in the corner when crossing the street but never talk to or the neighbor three houses next to hers and after many years they just acknowledge each other’s presence with a nod.

“Funny, your sister asked the same thing.” She replied dryly.

Narcissa’s expression somehow became more pronounced “Allow me to shed some light to your _colossal_ ignorance.” Her voice dripped scorn. “A year ago, no, months ago The Dark Lord would not dare to invite a girl, especially muggle-born, an impure one to mix among his ranks. And said girl is infected with the dirtiest and lowest cesspool of curses: Lycanthropy. Not only he does that but he invites her to sit next to him. One of the greatest honors he can give, bestowed to you almost since you arrived.”

“I earned that seat!” Hermione retorted.  

“The fact that you have to ask if it actually matters whether or not the Dark Lord knows about your curse, tells me how little do you know the Lord. Allow me to clarify that for you, it matters. It really matters. The main reason why Greyback couldn’t aspire to a higher position was because of his curse.”

 “When you arrived, he personally told me to take care of your needs.” A wry smile was drawn on her lips “I have to say Miss Granger; I was between shocked and livid. I thought he was punishing me for my husband’s failures. As if hosting death eaters wasn’t enough, now I had to tend personally the _newest addition_.”

The woman shook her head lightly; her lips, slightly parted, as if for a moment she couldn’t believe her own words. Unbeknown to Narcissa, Hermione started to share the same sentiment.   

“Did you know Bella was training Draco? That was till he ordered her not to; the excuse was that she had better things to do than to waste her time. But lo and behold! Once Miss Granger arrived the Lord commanded his Lieutenant to personally train her.”

Narcissa stared directly into Hermione’s eyes. “If you don’t think he is favoring you, Miss Granger, then I think I giving too much credit to your intelligence.”

Hermione stood rooted in her place; Thinking how was it that she hadn’t been aware of any of this. If she was looking for a single reason to think the Dark Wizard held her in higher regard than the others, Narcissa just threw her a whole list of items. 

“I really didn’t know.” She spoke softly, still absorbing the information.

“I can see that, Miss Granger.” Her tone was flat. The woman sighed tiredly, seeing her plan crumbling even before it started.

There was no doubt in the girl’s mind that all this had everything to do with Bellatrix being her mate. _‘But then why he would give me the potion in the first place?’_ It was an illogical thing to do if the man wanted her to bond with his Lieutenant. Besides all that, Voldemort wasn’t known for his kindness, then why he paid more attention to her? _‘Ugh, no wonder Lestrange asked if he was fucking me.’_ A wave of disgusted originated in her stomach. _‘…Gross’_

Hermione needed to think, really think about the implications behind his actions. But not now. Not when already everything felt like a clusterfuck. She could feel the first twinges of a headache approximating. _‘A bloody clusterfuck indeed.’_

Her eyes drifted at the light outside, she turned her body and looked through the window. The shadows cast by the house had almost shrunk by half. _‘By now, everyone must be about to wake up.’_ In no time the news will spread. She needed to reach Voldemort before that happened.

_‘What a day…’_ She was thankful for the distraction, though, in whatever form it came. It was better than to be alone with her thoughts, a habit that Hermione avoided most of the time in recent months.

After all this, Hermione felt forced to recognize one thing. Regardless of the venom which Narcissa words were spoken, all of them were said with honesty. A rare occurrence when living among snakes. The blonde just showed her a glimpse of how callous and cunning she can be, but if the woman truly wished her ill, then this interaction would very different from what it was right now.

No matter if she had a reason hidden behind all the apparent interest for her wellbeing, Narcissa had helped her more often than not. _‘I shouldn’t discard her so easily.’_

Hermione prayed to whichever deity was willing to listen, and hoped she wasn’t making a mistake involving herself with this family.  

“Why me?”

“Excuse me?”

“What makes you think I can help your son?”

“Weren’t you listening? Our Lord does favor you, Miss Granger. If Draco has your support—"

“That doesn’t mean I have sway on his opinion.”

“I don’t think anyone does.”

“Then what do you expect of me?”

“Your help.”

“What is his task?”

“What guarantee you’d give me—"

“None. Other than my word.” Her tone left no room for argument.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow in response.  “How can I trust you’ll keep your word?”  

“The same way I’m trusting you right now.”

Narcissa remained silent, her expression was thoughtful.

“Is your decision Mrs. Malfoy, either you tell me what it is or we are done here.”

As the silence extended, Hermione turned her back on Narcissa again letting the ultimatum hang in the air. If the woman didn’t trust her, that was her prerogative. Hermione thought. There was no other guarantee she was willing to offer. _‘I’ll be utterly mad the day I dare to do an unbreakable vow with someone.’_ Particularly with someone she didn’t even know.

“Whatever Draco has told you about me, believe him.” That was as much as a convincing attempt she was willing to do.

“I don’t think that’s a wise thing to say, Granger.”

Hermione snorted. “Didn’t he tell you how smart I’m?” She sounded almost wistful “The smartest witch of this generation, or so Dumbledore told me once.”  

The seconds turned to minutes, and just when Hermione thought this wasn’t going anywhere Narcissa spoke again.

“Alright, Miss Granger. But if you don’t keep your word, I’ll make sure to skin you alive myself and use your filthy fur as carpet on the main entrance.”

Hermione no doubted any single word of that promise.

“Draco has to establish a path for the Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts. Lucius and I found an enchanted cabinet in…”

Hermione almost barked a hysterical laugh right at that second, it took all her will to remain in her place, unmoving. Suddenly, she felt like all the tension was drained, then filled her with maniac amusement on the verge to explode. She wished she could though, for the ridiculousness, the mere absurdity of all was just hardly bearable at this point. _‘If only!’_ If only Narcissa had started this conversation with those simple words, things would have developed very differently. Her teeth flashed into a big smile; Hermione was glad that Narcissa couldn’t see it.

Hogwarts, the most secure place after Gringotts. Voldemort tasked Draco to build a path, _her path_ to get to Hogwarts, a seemingly impenetrable fortress. The chance of a lifetime, to enter Hogwarts without nobody knowing. To break the headmaster when he will less expect it. Nobody and not a single soul inside that castle will see her come. 

She was happy to know the dark wizard was keeping the promise he made to her.

 “… The actual problem is that the one in Hogwarts is in a very decrepit state and we don’t know if….”

Of course, she’ll do anything in her power to help the boy to achieve that. Suddenly, Hermione didn’t feel so furious at Severus or in general. Not much, at least.

 The way Hermione was starting to see it, they could help each other. _‘If she wants my help, how about a task for a task?’_ Narcissa had mentioned before her knowledge in healing was limited. But amateur or not the woman seemed to understand more than she let know. The brunette called it a hunch. How far, how deep that knowledge ran? The brunette couldn’t tell. But that was something she’ll eventually learn.

“…Under those conditions most probably the magical core of the wood had or is about to extinguish any….”

She eyed a book with a dark leather cover on top of her bedside table, the one she bought a month ago. Once her arm extended in direction to the furniture, the book flew immediately to her hand.

“Are you listening, Granger?!” The brisk tone made Hermione’s smile wider.

Finally, with a self-regulated modest smile on her face, she turned to face the woman. “I think we can benefit from each other Mrs. Malfoy. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to help Draco.” Hermione said as she offered the book to Narcissa. “But I’ll need your help with this…”

* * *

Hermione lingered nervously a few seconds looking at her wand before she gathered the courage to turn and speak to Voldemort. “My Lord, before I go. May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you want me to…” The words got stuck in her throat. She cleared her throat one time, then twice. “Do you expect me to mate with Bellatrix?” She croaked, almost wincing at the sound she just produced.

Voldemort halted the soft touches on Nagini. He turned to look at the brunette with interest.

“I guess, w-what I’m trying to say is, I—"

 “Do you want to?”

“Merlin, no.” She replied immediately. “And even if I wished to, which I really don’t, she is married.”

“Why would that matter?”

“The magical bond—”

“Is nothing compared to a Veela’s or werewolf imprint.” The man explained as if it was something she should’ve known already. His attention drifted somewhere else. “I wouldn’t have given you the potion if that was my wish. I’d might have as well forced you onto Bellatrix from the beginning. I said I wanted you to join by your own volition. I have kept my word, have I not?”

"Yes, you have, My Lord."

If his words were true, then why…? Hermione didn’t know how to ask without sounding ungrateful or suspicious of his intentions. She couldn’t risk offending him, even more so after today.

“Be sure to keep yours, follow my orders. And you’ll have nothing to worry about.” His tone was kind and sympathetic, like he was talking to a child.

Bur Hermione wasn’t stupid, she knew a threat when she heard one.

 “Would that be all?”

“Y-Yes.” Not feeling daring enough to test the limits of his accessibility, the brunette bowed. “Thank you for your time, My Lord.” And after the proper reverence, she left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter, so, so fucking much. Or perhaps is me getting tired in general. I don't know. Anyway, let me know what do you think of this story so far.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, during my writing, this chapter became too large to revise. Therefore, I had to remove some content. If it feels a little bit jarred between transitions. Now, you know why.

                                                                

Hermione walked along the empty hallway at a quick pace. Well, not so empty, if she was to take into consideration that the usually covered portraits, for no clear reason, were uncovered today. All of them belonged to the Malfoy’s linage, that's what Hermione assumed. From recent deceased uncles and aunts to several great-grandfathers, great-grandmothers, great-uncles, and whatnot.

Each person in those portraits sniffed, huffed and yelled the most diminishing words they could come up towards her persona. From dramatic gasps, slurs, disgusting spits to exaggerated expressions of disgust and contempt, the brunette watched and heard them all as she walked. ‘Disgrace!’ ‘Someone put her down like the animal she is’ ‘Disgusting mudblood.’ It was hard to distinguish who said what.

If only time allowed it, Hermione would stand there and taunt them then attempt to burn their precious little and limited existence. But alas, she was already very late.     

For the tenth time in the day, she tapped the wand in the back pocket. For a reason she couldn’t explain, or more like she didn’t wish to do an introspective search about it, the very idea to be wandless right now made her feel worse than when she shifted to werewolf for the first time: lost and vulnerable. Touching her wand gave her the sense of security she continuously needed.

By the time she left the hallway behind, Hermione’s mood had darkened. _‘Perhaps next time, I’ll burn a couple of portraits. That ought to shut the rest.’_

Her steps slowed when she saw Bellatrix standing close to the beginning of the Mansion’s back garden. The shadows cast by the thick clouds in the sky highlighted the woman's shimmering alabaster skin. Today it looked even brighter than usual. The contrast of her dark leathered corset dress made a black and white canvas of her whole figure.

Her wavy hair was loose, tangled. A complete mess.  It was clear that the woman hadn't picked up a hairbrush in a very long time. Now that Hermione started to pay close attention to her. it looked like Bellatrix didn’t care about her own personal appearance, at all. 

With arms crossed, the woman drummed her fingers over her arm impatiently. There was a subtle sneer on those carmine lips.

“You are late, Mudblood.”

Curiously enough, her voice didn’t carry the biting tone that the brunette was expecting.  

“Sorry,” Hermione said, trying to sound apologetic. “I had a meeting with our Lord and lost track of time.”

“Oh my, must have been a very important meeting.” The woman spoke with a hand on her cheek“If you dared to waste my time, and _made me_ wait.  You must have a very good excuse, girl.”

“It was important, actually.” The brunette spoke with conviction. “It was a one-time thing, so it won’t happen again. I’m sure.”

Lestrange stared at the girl for an uncomfortably long time. Her eyes did a quick swept up over the girl’s frame as if looking for something. It was until Hermione felt the need to say something else when the woman spoke again.    

“Fine.” Said the woman, seemingly satisfied by the girl’s excuse.

The brunette didn’t know what to expect from the woman but definitely wasn’t an agreeable Bellatrix Lestrange. Considering that yesterday’s session didn’t go well in the end, she expected, at the very least, a lot of yelling and threats.

Whatever was today's reason for the older witch's relatively acceptable mood, Hermione chose to not question it.

_‘Good. One less thing to worry about.’_

Bellatrix’s gaze drifted to the girl’s right hand. “Such a talented healer is my little sister.” She took her chin between her fingers, then draw a smile on those carmine lips. “When Cissy was a little child, she always loved to take care of whatever pitiful creature she could get her hands on. I can see that bad habit never died.”

In the beginning, it was easier to ignore Bellatrix’s insults. However, the more time they spent together the more her prickly tongue became sharper and incisive, setting fire on the girl's skin.

After enjoying the girl’s silent steaming, Bellatrix turned around and walked towards the center of the garden. “Position your muddy bum over there. We don’t want to hit the Mansion, do we?” She tilted her head to the other extreme of the terrain

"Chop, chop! And pull out your wand.”

“No wandless magic today?” asked the brunette, feeling intrigued at the change of curriculum.

“Nope” She emphasized the last syllable with a smack on her lips. “Today is a special day.” Her grin turned eerie all the sudden. “Let’s see how effective you are with defensive magic.”

“Are we going to duel?” The brunette suddenly grew worried.

“Ha!” The woman barked “You won’t even last a minute if you dueled me. No. You are going to repel my attacks only.”

Bellatrix had a sudden gleeful expression. It was quite unsettling. Hermione didn’t feel the earlier anxiety leaving her.

“I said move it, girl.” Said the woman impatiently. 

Not knowing what to expect, Hermione prepared for the worse. Her muscles tensed in anticipation and her heart started to pump faster.

“Ok, I’m read—”

With an invisible flick of her wand, a blue jet was shoot by Bellatrix. In quick response, Hermione erected a shield which dissipated the blue energy at impact. The tiny blue specks of light hadn’t even faded when the next spell was already coming at her. The collision was powerful. It buzzed with magical energy. Vibrations rippled across her fingers, fading after reaching the elbow. Whatever the spell was, it managed to crack her shield-charm with ease. Her reaction time fell short over the next attack. Hermione did nothing but to cover with her arms. The blast of hot air sent her flying backward.

Speed was everything when it came to dueling. It was imperative to remain alert at all times. The sound of the spell, the color of it could give away the type of magic, and therefore raise the correct defense. Moreover, acute reflexes were the critical difference between life and death.

In her case, to soften the impact of being hit by an invisible force. Her saving grace was her arresto momentum; it was so sharp at this point that she was almost able to cast it by muscle reflex. 

 “Pathetic!” Said Bellatrix, unimpressed by girl's levitation. “Again! And this time try to last more than 5 seconds, mudblood.”

The girl didn’t even have a second to register the woman’s taunts; just as soon as her feet touched the ground, another blast came her way. Successively, Hermione cast a counter hex, clashing with Bellatrix’s one in the middle.

What came next was Bellatrix casting frantically jinxes and hexes one after the other. The dark witch didn't leave any gap between one spell and the other. She made it impossible for Hermione to even try and foresee the next attack. The brunette on her part was doing her best to stay focused on what was coming to her, while still doing the correct footwork, allowing her better balance and less wasted energy.

The dark witch steps were getting bolder, intending to shorten the space between them. A strategy that Hermione has seen many times before in other duels. For every step Bellatrix took, the brunette doubled the distance. As long she didn’t have a wall behind her, preserving distance was the best bet in order to have some level of control over the playing field.

 A few moments later, the girl felt the strength and intensity of the spells were rapidly increasing. Bellatrix was testing her limits by mixing speed and force. A dangerous combination.

Just by taking into account that a stronger shield required more time and energy to cast than a weak one.  

It didn't take long to see the brunette's struggling with the older woman's rhythm. The girl’s feet were losing their coordination and her arm wasn’t properly stretched anymore. Her lack of experience and faulty technique had become very evident at this point.

When Hermione prepared for the worse, her thoughts went to the fight she had with Karkaroff. So far, he was her only point of reference. She expected this training would entitle the same intensity as if she was dueling against Igor. And in some ways, it felt exactly like it.

However, there were tiny differences. One difference being that Karkaroff was cheating with a still unknown spell to acquire magical strength; while Bellatrix’s magic source was all hers. The woman seemed as she could keep doing this for hours before she drained herself. That quality alone by itself was something the brunette thought was extremely intimidating.

A stinging jinx hit Hermione on the shoulder. A hot blast followed after; this time it was weaker compared to the last one. Yet still, it sent her body rolling on the ground. 

Bellatrix cackled loudly. A grin formed on her lips hearing at Hermione grunting.  The dust had entered the girl's eyes. She got up quickly, cleaning the traces of dirt with her sleeve int the process. There was a visible trace of grime spread along her right cheek. 

_‘What good it does to have increased reflexes if this woman is even faster than I?’_

Obsidian eyes glinted with delight as she took in the girl’s appearance “It suits you.” She bobbed her head to the side. “Mud for the mudblood.”

The girl clenched her jaw, making a double effort not to give away the hot anger that began boiling under her belly. Lestrange was breaking her shield as if the woman was dealing with an amateur.

The dark witch must have seen hints of annoyance on the brunette’s face because her smile grew wider with each moment.

_‘And that bloody smile…’_ The flair of superiority which the woman carried herself around, it rapidly crawled under her skin and made her want to punch her. 

She closed her fists tightly. No matter how many times had happened already. It was hard for Hermione to come to terms with failure, and the woman’s barbs only served to turn that sense of defeat into steaming anger.

No one has ever made her feel more like a fool than Bellatrix Lestrange. 

Casting a quick numbing spell over her shoulder, she walked towards her respective position again.

“Tell me, girl…” The woman spoke at the same time another jet of light was shot from her wand, blue as thunder and crackling like a fire burning wood. With her heels firmly cemented on the ground, Hermione harnessed the spell and rapidly deflected it toward the trees. The faint cracking sound that made on impact told her it was some variation of a stunner jinx.

Just by judging the size of it, it told her that Bellatrix wanted pain.

“What were you doing outside so early in the morning? Or was it in the night?”

It came as no surprise that Bellatrix was informed already. _‘I’m sure everyone knows by now.’_ Now the question was how did she learn about it? Was it from Narcissa’s mouth or from the gossip mill rolling among the death eaters? 

Different sources required slightly different answers.  

 “Who told you that?” Hermione asked, sounding as equally casual as the woman asking the question.

“I’m the one asking questions here, answer.”

“I went for a walk.” The girl replied.

Bellatrix’s front foot pressed into the ground; Hermione cast a protego as quickly as she could. The wave, produced after the impact against her shield, tore some leaves from the trees and brushes nearby as if something had shaken them aggressively.  

“Why did you kill him?”

“He attacked me.”

“Now, why would he do that?”

“Simply put, he disliked me.”

“Hmm, that he did. Yet you didn’t?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I found the man utterly disgusting.”

“The same thing could be said about you. How did you kill him?”

“With multiple slashing spells.”

“Did you know he was a werewolf and that yesterday was full moon?”

“Yes, I knew.”

“And you went out anyway. Why?”

“I didn’t think… I really didn’t imagine that…”

“I’m sure you didn’t. What were you doing outside?”

“As I said, I went for a walk.”

“Without a wand?”

That broke the girl’s cool mask. It only took a blink to see the surprise in brown eyes. Two blinks to vanish.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize wandless Diffindo when I see it?” Hermione stepped rapidly aside, avoiding by a hair Bellatrix’s jinx. 

“Especially yours, little mudblood.” Obsidian eyes waver ever so subtly between appraisal and contemp. “Your technique is quite peculiar.”

How was it possible to tell the difference? Wasn’t magic all the same? Same patterns and equal results? She wanted to ask the older woman, but it was obvious that Lestrange wasn’t in the mood for sharing.  

“Did he hurt you?”

“Why do you care?” Hermione retorted under her breath but still, the woman heard her all the same.

“I thought I made it clear, I’m the one asking questions.”

She heard the underlying danger behind the dark witch’s words, despite her relatively reserved expression.  

“Now! answer, were you hurt?”

Hermione nodded once.

“Good, then it’ll be easier to make you bleed again.”

If Bellatrix was serious about it or was an intimidation tactic, Hermione couldn’t tell. So far, two things were clear, one was that Narcissa hadn’t told Bellatrix. The other was the training session had taken an unanticipated turn, and she hardly knew what to do or how to act. 

“Why were you outside?”

Bellatrix kept shooting spells at her while the brunette did her best to repel them. 

“I told you! I went for a walk because I couldn’t sleep. And yes, I went out wandless, why would I need it? I was inside the grounds, what could go wrong?” She licked her lips, unconsciously. Having an immediate taste of a sandy texture on her tongue. “... At least that’s I thought.”

“You walked too far from the mansion’s grounds.” Bellatrix pointed in the direction towards the mountains in the back. “I know Greyback used to hunt deep inside the forest, long past the limits of this property.”

“That’s not true. He was within the limits of the property! And hunts what, exactly?” The girl gave her an incredulous look. “The kitchen elves?  Because that’s what I saw. The many dismembered bodies of the servants.”

It was an image that would remain imprinted in her brain for the near future. If she focused hard enough, the tang of blood and the disgusting werewolf’s odor still lingered in her nostrils. It was an illusion, Hermione told herself, created by her brain as a common response to shock and stressful situations. The same illusion that had a phantom grip on her neck, right now. Not giving a chance for her thoughts to run deeper, Hermione focused on the present and the woman before her.

“I went further into the forest to find some peace, like I said, what could go wrong. At some point, I lost track of time and went too far that I even got lost. I didn’t expect to see that beast when finding my way back.”

It’ll be till many hours later when finally Hermione realized her two biggest mistakes during this exchange. First was that Bellatrix had been studying her since the very moment she stepped into the garden. The brunette didn’t realize any of it because she was too busy feeling mocked and annoyed by her.

The second one was that even though what she spoke was the version closer to the truth, it sounded so synthetic and made up. If she were to hear those exact words coming from someone else’s mouth, she wouldn’t have believed any of it.

If only she had known that, what happened next wouldn’t have come as shock for Hermione. 

 From zero to one hundred Bellatrix’s mood darkened, completely changing the atmosphere around them. “Lost track of time?!” the dark witch yelled sharply caustic. “Like you lost track of time just about now?!” She strode in the girl’s direction; her face was a mixture of sadistic pleasure and ire. Hermione remained rooted in her place, still processing what the woman was talking about. Before she could react, Bellatrix was trusting her wand in the air.

Hermione felt surrounded by a warm energy the first second had a pleasant sensation. That quickly changed after a few seconds, the warm energy was hot almost scalding her skin. Then quickly the air became heavy. Unbreathable. Soon an invisible weigh was pushing her, urging her to kneel. The dark witch flickered her wand once more. The brunette felt as bricks had been placed on her shoulders. The weight was too much. She was sent to the ground, bruising her knees on the impact.

“Your meeting with the Dark Lord finished three hours ago!” The woman shrieked.

 “And you dared to lie to my face?! Who do you take me for?” Now that she was closer to understand what was going on, Hermione felt the first chills of dread gripping her veins. “Why should I believe anything that comes from your mouth, mudblood?” For the next seconds, she couldn’t bear to face the woman. Just by hearing the thin and menacing tone of her voice, she could imagine the ugly snarl on the woman.

 The invisible weight took the shape of two hands grasping each side of her face, forcing to look at the woman above her.

She had learned the woman was quick-tempered. Easily annoyed and quick to bite if provoked. On many occasions, she had been at the end of the woman’s temper just because she breathes. But today, she felt she crossed a new line.

“You see, girl. I do not like being insulted. When someone happens to lie to me, I believe they are calling me stupid.” Her words possessed an edge so sharp that matched the sharpness of the nails on her cheeks. Hermione grimaced at the touch. For a moment, her thoughts went to Narcissa; if only she could see the hateful gaze her older sister was giving her just now, perhaps she wouldn’t remain so naïve as to think Bellatrix wouldn’t dare to hurt her intentionally. 

As if on cue, a wand poked her ribs.

In an effort to recover a little control over their interaction, the girl scoffed, seemingly unfazed. “Is this how it’s going to be always?” Hermione asked. “You manhandling me every time you don’t get your way?”

The woman looked at her as if she might as be speaking in another language. “Why?” Bellatrix was a head taller than the girl, even more, when she wore high heels. Now that she found herself on her knees with the woman looming over her. Lestrange just might as well crush her like an insect. “You expected to be seated sipping tea and eating biscuits in the garden, while we discuss what a filthy liar you are?”

 “What I told you was the bloody truth!” She insisted.

“That’s not—"

“Damn it, Bellatrix! If you are not going to believe me, then go and talk to him. Go and tell our Lord whatever your bloody crazed mind has conjured up this time! You think I’m a spy. Bu sure to tell him that! Inform him of my — no doubt made-up by you—suspicious activities. While you are it, convince him that I’m not worth keeping. That sooner or later I’ll betray the lot of you because I’m mudblood. Tell him! Go ahead, Lestrange! See if I bloody fucking care!”

A mirthless laugh resonated in her throat, almost choking her from the exasperation and anger running in her body. “How about we go together? that way he and I can laugh at your face.”

Their verbal spats were the only outlet where Hermione could manifest a small portion of her hate for the woman. She could only wish and fantasize about returning half of the physical pain Bellatrix has done to her so far.

But as fate would have it, life was unfair. And if fate had control over her life, she assumed that the bitch had an agenda against her. Her life was more than unfair, the young witch thought. 

Fate had her bounded by the very restrictive natural laws of magical imprints. That left her with little to almost no room to retaliate. And so, although careful, she tried to not pull any punches when it came to speaking her mind.

And it seemed to work, Bellatrix’s pupils became shrunken into nothing, engulfed by a dark flames. Amidst the growing danger and her ubiquitous need to not submit, it was regarded as a small victory for her.

Unfortunately, that feeling lasted a few seconds. Not a moment after, an electric discharge hit her on the ribs; making her bent forward, wincing and whimpering.  

“Haven’t I told you about talking to me like that, girl?” The acrimonious voice shut up whatever ill-comment she itched to mutter under her nose. “I’m asking a question!”

“You said you’ll kill me.” Replied through gritted teeth.

“Ah, I see you remember well.” A forceful grip took her by the chin, making her face the tar blackened eyes, whose owner seemed to be taking pleasure in her pain. “You are very strong-willed. I’ll give you that. Most people would be already crying.”

Hermione had seen Bellatrix once almost killing a man for less than this. Seen once, but heard too many stories to count. She believed them all. How not to? If someone was doubting about the veracity of her actions, it was because they had never met the dark witch. It took just a glance at Bellatrix Lestrange to believe all the infamy that precede her.

Despite knowing all that, the girl wasn’t afraid. The dark witch wasn’t going to kill her. They both knew it. 

 “I understand the Dark Lord has plans for you. That was very clear to me the moment he put you to my care, you see. For what? At this point, I couldn’t care less. However, you are assigned to me. And as such, I won’t tolerate you having the nerve to lie directly to my face.”

“Then what do you want me to say, Lestrange?” Her exasperation was on the verge to turn into something uglier.

“For you to tell the truth!”

“I already told you—”

“Don’t take me for an imbecile!” Bellatrix pulled the girl closer to her. The younger witch could feel the woman’s breath ghosting her. “I know, _I know_ you weren’t just taking a silly stroll, mudblood.”

Hermione matched the woman’s tone. “I don’t know what else to tell you! because it was a silly stroll! I- I’m so tired that’s why I needed to…And! I mean…” Her words stuck in her throat. All that she had said so far was an embellished truth. Too abstract. It needed reality. She lowered her gaze. “No, forget it, I don’t expect you’ll understand anyway.”

“Try me.”

“Let me go.”

The grip on her chin didn’t have the same forceful nature as in the beginning. A tiny detail; one that the brunette decided to interpret as a sign of trust. As the time extended, there wasn’t any jinx, snarl, murderous glance, not even a sign of disgust or a cruel curve on her lips.

“Please.” Hermione insisted as she saw the traces of utter contempt almost leaving from the woman’s features.

“Ungula abscedo,” Said Bellatrix, finally relenting on the girl’s request. “Don’t test my patience, mudblood.”

Even the air felt lighter once the weight had vanished. A hand came to rest on the closest tree, Hermione used as support to stand up. Her body ached but it was her knees that hurt the most. “It might sound stupid, but I needed to leave the mansion as far as I could get.” Understanding that she needed to be transparent with the woman as much as it was possible, she resigned to do just that. “I’m so tired of being here. Don’t misunderstand my words, Lestrange. My loyalty remains with the Dark Lord.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I miss my freedom. But you and I know that leaving is not possible unless the Lord commands it so. That has been driving me crazy recently. Yesterday, the walls of my room felt incredibly constricting. So, I left.”  A midnight stroll born from the absolute restlessness and desperation of being inside walls. If that wasn’t the truth, Hermione didn’t know what else could be. “What happened after, it happened by circumstance. It didn’t go out looking for Greyback and find him roaming in the mansion grounds, gnawing elves. Much less to kill him. That is the truth.”

Bellatrix’s face betrayed nothing. It could only be assumed that she was weighing the girl’s words.

Breaking the silence with an unintelligible murmur, the woman crossed her arms over her chest and directed her focus again to the young witch. “Where were you before coming here?”

 “I was sleeping.” Said the girl softly, feeling a little miffed that this was the lie that unchained all the sequence of events. “I lied about it because if I had told you that was the reason I came late, you probably would have done the training unbearable.”

Bellatrix didn’t bother to pretend that wasn’t true.

“I was exhausted. I didn’t sleep much today. The fight with Greyback drained my magic more than I care to admit. I ran to tell our Lord what happened before he thought I was trying to keep it a secret or something. After that, I thought a respite for myself was in order.”

“He didn’t punish.” It wasn’t question. “Why?”

The dark witch had a knowing look, it spoke volumes of something the young witch couldn’t decipher.

“He gave another chance. I promised I’ll fix my mistake.”

A snicker came from the red lips. “How? By sewing him back together? Good luck with that.”

“Very funny. Are we done?” The brunette rolled her eyes, wondering if the woman had off switch for her snide remarks.

Bellatrix scoffed as if the question was a stupid one. “Far from it…” Her wand pointing at the girl’s face.

==================================================================

“Damn woman.” Gawain Robards was rocked back in the chair behind his desk, going through all the written demands his soon-to-be ex-wife’s lawyer had delivered him this morning. “Visits allowed only on Sunday?! Fuckin’ no.” He flipped between pages, snorting and grunting as he read word by word. “Cunt wants to fuck me up, alright.”

“You can take anything else. But there is no way you are restricting time with my son. Bitch.” If something good had come out of his marriage had been his son. He loved his boy dearly. His only real regret during these last years was not spending more time with him. “Maybe, after all this settles down, we could travel.” He took another swing from the bottle under his desk, enjoying the burn in his throat and the heat in his belly. Judging by his reddened, almost vein congested nose, the Head Auror has been drunk for many hours.

The much-dreaded drop that spilled the glass had happened a few days ago, his marriage crumbled over his feet. Now, he took some comfort in the fact that this time there was no woman nagging his ear off about his drinking habits. “Comfort of fools, I’d say.” 

A knock on the door halted the movement of his arms to take another swing at the almost empty bottle.

“Wait a moment!” From the right upper drawer, he pulled a small vial filled with a purple liquid. He drank it, avidly. In almost an instant, all evidence of drunkenness had disappeared. A minty taste substituted the sourness of his breath. “Come in!”

The new member of his investigative team entered the office “Chief, the owl from the Auror post in Iseville had returned. Here’s the letter.”

“Let me see.”

The Auror looked curiously at him, with concern in his eyes.

“What?” The man asked confused, brushing with his hand over the not-so-well trimmed beard of his.

“Chief, are you ok? You don’t look so good.” The chief frowned, at which his subordinate rushed to explain “Wha—What I mean is that your eyes look so puffy and red.”

A light sense embarrassment washed over him. Spadetail root did guarantee to remove the symptoms of drunkenness or hangover, nothing about erasing traces of crying. He completely forgot about that.

“I haven't slept in two days, that's why.” He begrudgingly said. “Now that you solved the big mystery, get out and do work damn work.”

“R-right. Yes, sir.” The man scurried quickly out of his office.

 Robards held the letter between his fingers and anxiously removed the wax seal from the elope. His eyed read avidly the few lines written. He took a quick glance at his door office and then reread them again.

“Well, I’ll be dammed.”

_‘The witness said that Bellatrix introduced the girl as her apprentice. He recognized her as Hermione Granger. He said the girl seemed to be doing everything on her own free will.’_

Nothing made sense to him. The obvious was just too far-fetched, too impossible to be true. And the illogical wasn’t logical enough.

What was going on?

On top of Robard’s desk, there were several framed photos of him together with his family. In one picture, a favorite of his, a younger and slimmer Robards posed with his wife and their recent born son on a beach in the french riviera. It had been taken 2 weeks after the war had officially ended. To celebrate, he took his family on a vacation.

Those were the good days. Peaceful and hopeful times. His life was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Now, war was coming again, waiting around the corner. Threating to take everything away from him and many other people. 

“Over my dead body.”

====================================================================

“You are welcome, by the way.”  

If it were not for the trees, Hermione would have been taken multiple hits. Her breath was ragged and her feet ached, which caused to make more stupid mistakes that let her vulnerable. To make things worse, now she had to watch out for roots poking out of the ground, the terrain had become more uneven as she continued opening space between her and the older witch.

“When did I say thank you?”

The approaching steps of Bellatrix, caused the brunette to leave her hiding spot. 

“A ‘Thank you’ is the very least you can say. Ungrateful, girl.” Finally, the dark witch was showing signs of exhaustion, her walk wasn’t as precise and elegant, the girl noticed. There were beads of sweat mapping trails from her neck to not-so-discreet cleavage. Her hair was slightly disheveled; unruly strands fell on the front of her face. Which, with a quick sweep from her hand, she fixed quickly. “You are very quick to forget who taught you wandless magic. You’ll probably be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

Knowing that her words had caused enough distraction, Bellatrix took the opportunity to cast her next spell. As it was, Hermione’s focus faltered, failing to redirect the jinx. The stunner hit her square in the stomach, she quickly fell on her knees bracing her arms against her chest.

“Look at you, pathetic girl.”

“You already made that very clear.” Hermione acidly spat. Resting on her hands and knees, gasping for air while feeling the waves of the stunner fading in long and sharp pulses.

The dark witch reclined on a tree, watching the girl with dark amusement. “It finally settled down, isn’t?”

Much to Hermione’s chagrin _,_ what the woman said was an undeniable fact, whether she liked it or not. There was no way she could have survived Greyback’s confrontation otherwise.

In another time, she wouldn’t have hesitated to express her gratitude, no matter who the woman was; express gratitude was the proper thing to do. But in today’s time, the way Hermione saw it, Bellatrix was undeserving of her gratitude after everything she has done to her.

Deep inside, in the darkest corners of her mind, she was convinced that Lestrange owned her more than Hermione could ever own her. Just by the fact that she was imprinted on the woman, Bellatrix robbed her on many things already. 

_‘I don’t own her anything, she has already taken so much of…’_

“You own me—”

“—I don’t own you anything!”

“Oh well, what can you expect from the uncivilized.” Bellatrix placing her wand in the holster tied to her waist. “Alright, training is done. Score: Dreadful. Oh! No scratch that. Is Troll. Yeah, that’s your score. Which means, you suck.”  

 “Hilarious.” Was the girl’s dry replied; finally having the strength to stand up. “I guess you have your work cut out for you then, after all, you are the one who has to teach me.”

Bellatrix’s smile never faltered, if anything the girl saw it turning a little wider. “How are the nightmares treating you?”

Hermione’s neck almost broke when she turned to look at the woman with wide eyes. _‘How does she…?’_

“The mudblood acts all tough and know it all. Working so hard to be strong, confident and unfazed by all. Acting like she truly belongs here. But let me tell you, the only thing I see is a little girl playing to be a grown-up.” Her lips pressed together in a mocking pout and pitying eyes.  

“What are you talking about?”

 “You say you arrived late because you were sleeping. But you didn’t. You tried to sleep, but when you closed your eyes bad things, horrible things appeared before them” The silence coming from the young witch said everything; the knowing smirk appeared again on alabaster features. “I see the shadows lurking behind. The haunting fear in your eyes, it shines like a beacon in a storm. I can see your emotions even with my eyes closed.” The black eyes adopted a feline-like piercing glare. “Ah, they there are. The eyes who have seen death and fear it. Or is it guilt?” The woman silently contemplated the girl’s tightened expression. “Both it is.”

“I’m not scared!” The young witch immediately hated her own voice.

“I think I just pinched a nerve.” Her eyes narrowed “I’ll bet anything you want. Greyback will come for you tonight. And when he does, you’ll wake up crying, trembling and scared.” 

“Are you speaking from experience?”

The woman barked a laugh. “Now look at me girl, do you think I have conscience torments?”

“What is your point in all this?” The asked, growing defensive.

Bellatrix smiled dropped. “For some unfathomable reason, the Lord wants you with me. That being the case, you better get used to this life. I have no need for someone who is having doubts and a guilty conscience. That’ll make you a liability! And I’ll very much prefer to toss aside that little pesky problem before it turns into a real one.”

 “Slow, weak, pathetic. Ungrateful girl. What a disaster I’ve been assigned to train.” Bellatrix slowly paced towards the unmoving girl. The soft motion of her hips and swing of her dress reminded Hermione of Nagini for some reason. “I going to tell you a little secret, mudblood.” Her voice became husky, secretive. As if someone suddenly might be just behind the bushes. “You think you got away with your little stunt?” With a flick of her finger, she whipped a little bug crawling over the girl’s shoulder. Then the woman placed her hand delicately on the girl’s shoulder; the brunette swallowed loudly, unable to process anything but the woman’s closeness.

The intrusive hand moved upward, caressing the muscle between the neck and shoulder. Her touch was, a polarized act of what Bellatrix was, soft and tender. “Well, think again!” Unexpectedly, that hand tensed and nails dug into skin. Hermione winced in response but made no effort to move. “Nobody, no one does something like this and gets away without his punishment. No exception!”

Shoving the hand to the side. “Why are you telling me this?”

Her smile was somewhere between impish and cruel. “Why else? To create anticipation, obviously. Now that I told you, you won’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

In that instant, Hermione felt that she wouldn’t even able to figure out what kind of woman was Lestrange even if her life depended on it. Was Bellatrix like this with everyone or just with her? The woman was a bully. And it was obvious she got a kick out her suffering. _‘It wouldn’t be surprising if she was the one…’_

 “It was you. The one who uncovered the portraits today.”

 The woman stopped her tracks. “My, you sure are slow.” Bellatrix looked behind her shoulder. “I thought you already had figured that one out.”

Furious but disturbed eyes followed the dark witch step away till her figure disappeared inside mansion.

_‘There is no way you could ever compete with that level of foresight and strategy.’_ The ugly voice in her head made an appearance. The one that made sure Hermione would never forget her insecurities. _‘Severus, Narcissa, Bellatrix…’_ Now she was getting a full taste of what it meant to be a Slytherin. 

 ‘thud thud’

Were they always this manipulative? Yet Bellatrix was different from Severus and Narcissa, she was straight forward as she was cunning but not deceiving. She didn’t rely upon lies but in power and intimidation. _‘She relies on her power of observation.’_  

 ‘thud thud’

Bellatrix had taken a glimpse of her internal struggle. _‘Was I being that transparent?’_ Showing her true deep feelings, that meant fears and insecurities was the worst thing she could do in this Mansion filled with snakes. Yet she has been advertising it all day.  

_‘Stupid! How can I be so stupid!’_ She lowered her guard. Bellatrix played a hand in it. But in the end, it was her fault.   

‘Thud, thud, thud.’

_‘Slow, weak and pathetic. What a disaster’_ whispered Bellatrix in her mind

‘thud thud thud’

Hermione scanned around looking for the culprit of so obnoxious noise. There, in a tree behind her a woodpecker that was pecking lustily on a tree. “I can’t think if you are making noise.” 

‘Thud th—' “Shut the fuck up!!” With an aggressive wave of her whole arm, the bird was caught by an invisible but violent force that sent gliding onto the tree behind him. The impact smeared him on the bark, like a bug under a shoe.

“See if you can peck something now.” Watching the remains falling to the ground. “Stupid birds.” 

Hermione brushed her knees and robes, then proceeded to walk back to the mansion. Hoping Narcissa might have some more of that anti-bruising ointment. 

===========================================================================

 “What are you doing? Where are you taking me? Please; please stop! I beg you! I didn’t do anything wrong! Let me go please, I don’t want to die. Please don’t, no!” A familiar-looking man was being dragged to the lower dungeons by two large men, which Hermione didn’t recognize. They were dressed in dark robes but ragged and dirty; ugly and deformed scars marred their faces.  They filled the full description of what it meant to be a henchman: both were scary-looking, buff, tall and mindless goons.

_‘What is he doing here?’_

Dolohov, who was resting his back on a pillar, observed from a distance the whole scene with pleasure as if he was watching live entertainment. In a way, he was doing exactly that. The toothpick between his lips rolled from side to side in his mouth. “Take him down already! I’m fuckin’ tired of hearing his whining.”

Approaching to Dolohov as the tearful cries of help became fainter by the second, the wizard acknowledged his presence with a nod. “Was that Florean Fortescue?” Hermione asked.

“Aye, the Dark Lord wants to question him later.”

_‘What would Voldemort want with…’_ Hermione snorted softly.  “He wants to question him about what? How to make ice cream? The newest recipe for this summer?” Just as soon as the words left had her mouth, she regretted it. For an instant forgetting who she was talking with; she quickly tried to backtrack “I-I’m sorry, what I meant is... I don’t why I said that; my mind must be still exhausted.”

To her surprise, Dolohov laughed. “I won’t lie, for half a second the thought crossed my mind, too.”

Hermione didn’t believe him. Nonetheless, she appreciated the man was trying to be sympathetic.

“Then it would mean that you actually have no idea why the Lord would interrogate the ice cream guy?”

Her eyes gaze in the direction of the stairs; she actually felt bad for the man. Whatever they were planning to do to him, it was most probable that he wouldn’t leave this place alive. She used to like him; There were multiple occasions when she saw him giving free ice cream to the kids on the street. He was a generous man.   

_‘What had he done to earn a place in the dungeons?’_  

In the first place, why the Malfoy Mansion had dungeons?  What kind of people was the Malfoy bloodline that they even had to consider building dungeons under their living grounds? What could have been the original purpose?

“Beats me. My work was to find the tosser, so I did that. I’m just doing my work” He looked her up and down, with narrowed eyes. Then, he added. “Just like you should be doing yours”

“I’m doing my part too; if you must know.” She replied, slightly irritated at him and his implications.

Letting it slide, for now; Hermione seized this opportunity to finally confirm her thoughts about him. “So, no hard feelings? I had to make it credible. You understand that I couldn’t risk suspicion from the others.”

The girl wished to say it wasn’t personal, but it was. In her own words, it was fucking personal. During their duel at the Department of Mysteries, Dolohov had left her an injury that lasted her almost a month. When the Lord assigned her the first task, she thought it was only fair to return the favor in kind. But he didn’t need to know all that.

Dolohov stilled and remained silent for a moment. There was a contemplative look on in his face, Hermione blinked once a saw hesitation manifesting in his face; the rolling toothpick had tensed in between his lips.  Hermione understood it as if the man was trying to find a reason to not bury the hatched.

The dark wizard made a raspy grunt and took the toothpick out of his mouth. “I got over it.” He finally spoke, looking noncommittal. “If the Lord wants you here, then this is where you must be. That’s good enough for me.” He added, surprising Hermione very much.

He quickly put again the toothpick in his mouth and started to roll it with his tongue.

It will be till much, much time later, that Hermione will learn to recognize that habit of his as a signal for speaking the truth. 

“Good to hear.” She smiled.

=================================================================

Just as Severus expected Dumbledore did contact him. And he did it through the most conspicuous method of wizardry communication, owls. He long ago earned Voldemort’s complete thrust, allowed him to conventionally communicate with the opposition. No one would ever dare to intercept his letters, not even Bellatrix, who has been very vocal about her suspicions towards him.

Being a double agent meant not to do everything so secretly. To be extremely discreet would only be pernicious in the long run, for someone was bound to notice how secretive he behaved.

_‘Let’s meet whenever you have the time.’_

_—  The best Eurekas are harvested in summer._

Eureka was a type of lemon, and what was Dumbledore’s favorite candy but lemon drops.

However, Dumbledore’s summons may have to wait longer than he originally thought, Voldemort seemed eager to put in motion something else. _‘Do finish whatever task or potions you have, there are matters where I need your attention.’_ Voldemort told him days ago. His intuition said he won’t be sleeping in his own bed any time soon.

Just when he was about to push the door leading to the foyer, an elf opened the door for him. As it was instructed, the elf welcomed him into the mansion with a proper bow and salute. The foyer’s candelabra were already lighted up, despite having daylight outside. Which implied the Dark Lord still hadn’t left his quarters.

He stood there, next to the large mahogany doors. Hesitant of what to do next. He eyed the hallway on the left. The candles were lighted up, too. Then, he looked towards the grand hall, which connected to the second floor. His eyes looked at the left again, and his feet pointed to the large room. A tempus charm appeared in front of him.

There was still time.

As he crossed the threshold of the hall, his decisive steps had suddenly become hesitant. A few meters ahead of him, a conversation took place between the know-it-all and the bloodhound. It seemed to him; their interaction was inside the boundaries of amicable. He was about to turn around and take the other path.

“Severus is good to see you!” Hermione sounded quite lively to anyone else who was listening, but to Severus.

It was Hermione, who saw him first; the placid expression on her face quickly dropped. Dolohov turned around to greet him with a glance. One that was not met by Snape. 

She had cold look in her eyes; it didn’t take the potions master long to guess the motive behind it. The reasons she could be angry with him weren’t that many after all. There was something hidden in her expression, she looked tired but alert. She reminded him of the typical seventh-year students during the last terms; most of them were loaded with caffeine in the mornings to the point of having tremors in their hands, all because they spent the night studying.

This time though, he was sure the reason wasn’t that his ex-student drank too much coffee. No, she had an edge in her eyes that wasn’t there last time he saw her.       

The brunette bid an ‘until later’ to Dolohov, leaving the man behind her.

“Granger.” Severus couldn’t sound more apathetic even if he wished to. “I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry, we have time to spare.” The brunette cut in. “You see, there’s something I’ve been meaning to consult with you.” Her eyes narrowed, hoping that they were on the same page. “Shall we?” She motioned with her hand toward the foyer. Her smile faltered when Severus didn’t react to anything she had said. The man’s stoic and uninterested demeanor didn’t flicker. They were on the same page, the girl concluded. Her upper lip curled, dropping all pretense and letting her dark mood show. “After the little stunt you pulled out, I believe you own me that much, Snape.”

“Do I?” A wry smile flashed on his lips. The audacity of Hermione Granger, the impertinence in which she dared to talk to him like that, would have earned her the whole school year worth of detentions. At the very least, a slap in the face. But her ex-student was no girl at all, in the strict sense that nothing she did belong in the normal life of a teenager. The other thing was her lycanthropy affliction, which that itself added a lot of behavioral patterns that weren’t there before. He didn’t need to look at any other reminder of her temper but to his burned robes still hanging on a chair in his house.      

Sensing that the girl wasn’t going anywhere, Severus conceded “Lead the way, then”

The gardens were the most attractive feature of Malfoy’s mansion. Not that the interior wasn’t impressive by itself. However, the gardens whether was the north, east, west had a literal and metaphorical magical sense to it. The fieldstone walkways were narrow and simple, which served to enhance the natural aspect. The young witch and the potions maters walked side by side along the little path. With every step, they put more distance between them and the mansion.  The walkways were recently designed in such fashion that every time someone strolled down the path, vines would come out from the sides of it. Vis with different ornamental flowers created a magical roof for the stroller. And, after a few moments, it went back to the ground. As long as they stayed on the path, the vines kept tangling, different species of vines intertwined with each other. Magenta, xanthic and mulberry colored flowers sprang from its stems. The latest fashion in garden decoration; a creation made by the elves this morning.

 “You lead her to me in the most possible manipulative way, without you getting in the middle. That was very…” ‘ _Cunning, smart, Machiavellian._ _No. Dangerous.’_ “…weaselly of you, Severus.”

“Must I assume by her, you meant Narcissa. You talked to her?”

“Oh, we did more than talk!” There was forceful chuckle after. Hermione didn’t know how not to explode after remembering all the anger she felt when uncovering his plot. After all, it was only a few hours ago that she wanted to smite the man. 

Abruptly, Severus halted his steps. He turned to look at the girl, slowly curving his eyebrow upwards. An inquisitive expression settled on his face.

Hermione knitted her eyebrows, not understanding why the questioning glance.

She gaped, then gave him an owlish look. His face grew suggestive. She contorted her face in frustration. “No! What?! No in _that_ way! Merlin! Do you think this is funny?”

“No. Do you?” She searched for the humor in his voice. Found nothing. 

Hermione felt her cheeks had turned warm. Mortification settled in her chest. Never in her wildest thoughts, she could consider that a possibility. Yes, days ago she realized that Narcissa was quite the attractive woman, with a beautiful face and body and perhaps, given the proper chance to find out, a beautiful mind.

_‘I could not even dare to think that…Why would he…?’_

Becoming conscious that this moment wasn’t the time or the place to think about it, she dissipated those thoughts out her mind.

Adopting a serious expression on her face, she resumed their pace. “I don’t know why would you ever think that, nor do I care. What I meant originally is that she knows more than originally I’m comfortable with.”

 “Does she know you have lycanthropy?”

“Yes, wasn’t that your intention?” The resentment simmered in her throat. “To spike her curiosity about me, so she could be able to put everything together?”

 “Is she aware of the imprint?”

She couldn’t decide if the calmness and detached attitude of Severus irked her or served as a catalyst to her emotions.

The brunette scoffed “You know very well she doesn’t. Things would be completely different for all of _us_ if she did.” She emphasized on the ‘us’ with the sole intention to remind Severus of their current deal. if Narcissa or someone else were to know about the imprint, Voldemort had the right to know about Severus’s duplicitous behavior. 

Hermione expected that her words would evoke a reaction out of Severus, but the man continued walking an acting as if they were talking about the most boring topic they could come up with.

“May I ask how she did it?” He asked.

“Did you know she will try to blackmail me?” Said the brunette, ignoring the man’s question. To explain how Narcissa did it, it meant to delve into other details she wasn’t willing to share. Not now at least.  

 “She wouldn’t be Narcissa if she didn’t.” For the second time in the day, Hermione wondered what kind of relationship Narcissa and Severus had, considering that the man seemed to know her very well. ‘ _They must be or must have been really close.’_

Which brought her to the next question. “Explain it to me, Snape. Why would you do it? Do you own Narcissa something?”

_‘Are you romantically interested in her?’_

Severus halted his steps once more. His body turned abruptly to face the girl; a vexed look painted his features, a look that spoke volumes of how annoyed he was with her. “I’m amazed by your lack of intelligence at this moment Granger. You see Narcissa as a problem when actually she can be your ally. On that note, how many allies do have you so far?” He asked condescendingly.

Hermione remained silent, biting her tongue at seeing the already familiar expression. She was about to be scolded like a toddler, or a student who fucked greatly in her potions’ exam.

“Her family is hanging from a very finite strand. If our Lord hasn’t killed Lucius is because he amuses him. He enjoys making Lucius squirm. Now more than ever Narcissa needs all the help she can get if she wants to keep her family intact. Imagine how grateful they will be if someone were to pull them out of that hole by helping their son.”

_‘Oh…’_

_‘The Malfoys will own me a favor. A powerful family would own me a huge favor.’_ It never occurred to her to see from that angle.   

At this moment in time, to have someone this influential own her something could turn highly beneficial. She might not need something now, but tomorrow she might. Too much commodity, tend to make people complacent. Too much commodity tended to make people very shortsighted. A lost opportunity. Because she had already cashed the favor with another favor.

“Once again, you disappoint me.” Severus had a gaze that could almost be weighted physically, it was heavily judgmental and critical. Simply impossible to ignore.

Her hands balled into fists. Those words felt like hundreds of needles piercing the mouth of her stomach, right under the ribcage. It shouldn’t have bothered her to this degree, but it did.  Hermione did not fully trust Snape, but she had always respect and admire his multiple talents. He had earned her admiration long ago. To be looked down upon by this man was equally humiliating as infuriating.

“Keep up Granger, or you’ll drown.” He said, then proceeded to resume their walk.

The brunette remained still in her place for a moment longer, glaring the potions master walking down the path. For a fraction of a second, a blink in time really, her hand itched to grab her wand. The thought of casting the killing curse remained longer than the itch in her hand. The thought was there, alive. Permeating her the lines of right and wrong. Pushed by raw emotions that didn’t belong there.

When she blinked again, the impulse had left her. Carrying everything back with it, and so, the steaming anger had resided again.

 “Narcissa said you are helping too.” The girl said once she caught up with Severus’s pace.

“Indeed.”

“How?”

“I’ll help him repair the cabinet in Hogwarts. I assume you are going to repair the one on this side.”

“That’ll be correct.”

“Why didn’t you accept the unbreakable vow?”

“Did you?”

“Of course not.”

“There you have it.”

Hermione’s eyebrows knitted; she didn’t know what to make out of Severus' comment. She wondered if he didn’t comply with Narcissa’s request for the exact same reasons she didn’t. If it were the case, that would tell her that Severus had his reservations against Narcissa. Despite their, supposedly, good-natured relationship. _‘Whatever that means…’_

There was another matter too, which had been bothering her. Whether the full element of surprise was going to remain in the original plan or if Severus was planning to blow that one. “Does he know?”

“He knows the boy got his first task.”

“But not the details”

“No, neither do I plan to tell him.”

Little Hermione could guess how the mind of Severus worked as a double agent. Sometimes he seemed to be on Dumbledore’s side, but then there were small glimpses in-between to be of Voldemort’s side. Like in this instance, why wouldn’t he tell the whole information to the old man instead of just giving him pieces of it? And if he wasn’t on any side, then what? Was he on his own side? That would only take him so far.  

_‘Or for all I know, he is lying to me. And he tells everything to Dumbledore. Including the truth about my whereabouts and that I’m cooperating with Voldemort.’_

They arrived at the end of the road. A greenhouse with its heavily ornamented doors stood before them. From here she could see the window of her bedroom, and just a few meters down below the remains of, what seemed to be, a very large tree. What little remained of it was adopting a darker color, which it was fully dying. Hermione’s bitter mood almost receded at the memory of she destroying the tree and Narcissa’s reaction after. She remembered waking up in a very dark mood that day.     

She turned to look at Severus; the man was pulling petals from different flowers that were artfully planted in the soil surrounding the greenhouse.

“You or she could have just asked me, I don’t see why the need for the dramatics and the subterfuge, you know.” 

“And you would have outright refuse, despite having a common goal with Draco.” Said the man wisely. He lowered down to reach the poinsettia close to the ground, he closely examined it before ripping the flower from its stem.

It irked Hermione that, like always, the man was right. If she accepted Narcissa’s request in the first place was because it was a quid pro quo arrangement. Otherwise, it’ll be a very cold day in hell when she does something and Draco benefits from it. But now, she even had a mayor motivation to go through all the bother.

The girl followed after him as the man stepped into the grass, slowly perusing which hemlock was better suitable to pick. 

 “Don’t presume to know everything about me, Snape. You should have asked me at the very least.” She said, sounding offended. Her hand ran across her hair, sighing tiredly. “Not that it matters anymore, does it?”

“It doesn’t, indeed.” He answered, absentminded. “However, I do not presume to know everything about you. Your hate for Draco is continuing to be obvious.”

The brunette's first reaction was to agree with him, but something else had caught her attention; Severus plucked several Foxgloves from its stem. Now that she thought about it, all the flowers he had been picking had one thing in common. 

“Are you planning to kill someone, Snape?”

Severus gave her a dirty look. The plant recoiled at the forceful pull of its petals. “No at the moment. No matter how much I wish to, I shall refrain to kill the people I dislike. Especially, a know-it-all ex-student.”

“Right.” A breathy chuckle passed her lips. “Because nothing else means good intentions than plucking poisonous flowers. Foxglove, Hemlock, Poinsettia.” She pointed at the flower in the man’s hand “Jimsonweed. And why would they have so many poisonous flowers in here?”

He opened his black leather satchel behind his back and placed the petals inside. “If you had read the book I gave you, you’ll know that smaller doses of poison serve as an accelerator for the effectiveness in many potions.”

Hermione smiled sheepishly, which inspired a short sneer to appear in the man’s upper lip. “Yeah, well. I’ve been very busy these days. I’ll read it soon.”

====================================================================

The large doors close behind her as she stepped into the drawing-room. Most of Voldemort’s closest allies were already sitting on their respective seats. Others, like Dolohov and Yaxley, continued their conversation far away in a dark corner. Dolohov moved his hands violently, while Yaxley heard attentively. It was hard to gather what they were discussing what seemed to be an effusive but amicable conversation.

Silent murmurs and short glances were exchanged when her presence was acknowledged.

She met their gazes dourly, one by one. Some, like Goyle Sr., glanced away in discomfort. While others, like the Lestrange brothers, maintained their fixed eyes on her. It didn’t matter, as long as she sent the message loud and clear: She was here to stay and she won’t shy away from them.

Across from her seat, an unusually quiet, bored-looking Bellatrix, sat languidly with her back resting on the backrest. Her head bobbed to the left, rested on her fist. She spared a glance at the brunette before she returned to look at her handcrafted dagger dancing on her fingertips. The knife moved fluidly between her digits; one might think that she was using magic to make it move so smoothly along her fingers. The girl highly doubted that was the case. Like many times before, she wondered what kind of use did Bellatrix gave to the knife besides from playing it.

She felt another pair of eyes glancing her direction. Draco seemed to have taken an interest in her. How odd. Since today’s morning, they had very little crossed paths during her stay here. Now, the boy had eyes on her almost right after she entered the room.

_‘Has Narcissa told him anything?’_

That would explain why the sudden change in his behavior. Hermione didn’t wish for the boy to think this was a form of extending the olive branch. She wasn’t ready to do anything for him but to tolerate him. What better way to send the message but to ignore his presence at all. 

Instead, she opted to take a look at his mother.

If that was true, Narcissa wouldn’t say more than was necessary to Draco; she had to believe the blonde woman wouldn’t jeopardize their agreement at such early stages. After all her recent experiences, trusting has ultimately proved to be pernicious for her survival.

The tension was marked on Narcissa’s chiseled features despite the false aura of coldness. A sentiment her husband shared as well. If anything, Narcissa still stood with her head high, unlike the man sitting next to her. Lucius’s shoulders were almost downwards, and his eyes were veiny, a common symptom from lack of sleep. The man appeared to make a great effort to hold his usual regal posture.

Her eyes finally connected with the blue one across the table, Hermione gave a soft nod as a greeting, something Narcissa replied in kind.

She was convinced, were if Narcissa was given the opportunity, she’ll take away her family from all this, Voldemort be damned. She couldn’t say the same for Lucius who seemed still firmly eager to meet Voldemort’s approval despite how miserable he seemed to be lately.

Feeling another set of eyes on shadowing upon, her first reaction was to look across from the table. Before she could catch those void-like eyes looking at her, Bellatrix was already focused on her knife.

The Lieutenant was keeping an eye on her.

_‘What do you want this time, Lestrange?’_  

Hermione breathed deeply, feeling a small tingle in her chest, easy to ignore but it told her that might be in need for another dose in a couple of hours. Now she had been taking a double dose daily thing have been improving for her. Most of the time she felt completely normal, letting her to properly function during the day.   

The only chair next to her was dragged backward, the other man who has met Voldemort’s approval at all times sat next to her.

“Severus.”

“Granger.”

Once they had returned from their walk, both took different directions. Hermione watched Severus climb the stairs to the second floor, and she can almost swear he turned to the east wing. Where Narcissa resided. _‘…And Bellatrix, Draco, Lucius…’_ Her mind helpfully supplied. _‘No, he definitely went to see Narcissa.’_ Her eyes returned back to the blonde _‘Are they…?’_ Narcissa didn’t look any different since she saw this morning. _‘Don’t people look happier after they…?’_  

“Is it true what is being said about Greyback and Granger?”

Hermione was pulled out from her internal musings, by the shrilling voice of Alecto Carrow. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the pathetic attempt of the woman to whisper at Rookwood, who sat across from her. 

Snape clasped his hands and placed them over the table. He listened attentively, while he watched the brunette smoothing her robes from the corner of his eye.  

“Yes, Granger killed him.” Rookwood’s rough voice was as loud as the Carrow sister. They weren’t even trying, which could only mean they wanted her to hear. Someone else had chimed into their conversation. That’s when Severus decided to look at the girl.

 “…Care to share?”

“You don’t want to know,” Hermione said, seemingly very busy with an invisible loose strand in the dark fabric.

A smile threatened to form on her lips. Even though she wasn’t looking at Severus, she had a clear picture in her head of the actual expression on his face. The patented stern look of his. The one he often had when lecturing an errand brat. Of course, she being the impudent, irreverent brat in this case. After releasing an exaggerated sigh, she turned her head and gave him a blank look. “I didn’t kill him. I’m pretty sure he died by falling from a tree.” The girl deadpanned, clear enough for everyone to hear. 

Lucius straightened over the table; his shoulders squared. “That’s very hard to believe, considering the only part that wasn’t mutilated was the man’s head.”

Now that Severus mentioned it, Hermione was starting to see why Voldemort found him ‘entertaining.’ The pomposity of Lucius Malfoy was almost caricaturesque. The corners of her lips stretched a little; a mischievous glimmer set home in brown eyes. “Who knows, then? Perhaps a whomping willow did it. The ends of branches are often quite sharp.” Mirroring Lucius’s body language, she continued. “As sharp as a, I don’t know, a diffindo, I guess.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t been informed of this development before,” Severus said, sternly. His voice had become recriminatory.

Bellatrix’s knife had stopped in her hand. Her fist closed tightly around the hilt; tar eyes connected with the ones across the table. Black curls, like snakes, fell to the side of her face which framed the acerbity  “Are you now?” She asked, saccharine voice slow and tight “Why would you know? You seem to be always busy making potions.” She stabbed the knife on the table. “In fact, you are always very, very, _very busy_ , don’t you, Snivelus?! Never have time for anything!” She bent forward, almost leaving her chair in the process. “I was _very busy_ as well; I didn’t have the time to notify you. Till now. Greyback is dead. There.”

_‘…Snivelus?’_

 “One must wonder what is keeping you so busy considering actual events. Our Lord’s Lieutenant is in charge to inform the rest of us of any dramatic changes in the dynamic as soon as possible.” The man countered, ignoring Bellatrix’s blatant intentions to bait him.

Hermione was entranced by their interaction. There were too many things to unpack in those veiled words but didn't where to start.

“Greyback’s death falls very well into that category. He was supposed to help with—”

“There is still time for that; you don’t need to worry.” The dark witch waved her hand dismissingly, just as someone would do to a house elf.  “Our little mudblood will find you a new husband; by the time you need it, he will be there.”

Hermione noticed the other voices in the room had died; it took one sweeping glance to see everyone watching and listening to their exchange. All of them had looks that could be described as morbid. Except for one, Narcissa. There were faint lines on concern in her eyebrows.

_‘What are you worried about? Is it because of Severus?’_

Her speculations were cut short, when Severus’s attention returned to her.

Something felt off.

“How did it happen, Granger? Refrain yourself to blabber insipid jokes.” He drawled his words as if he didn’t care, his flawless stoic posture was well put, and yet he looked like as if he was pointing his wand at her head.

Hermione felt she was missing something crucial. 

The brunette furrowed her eyebrows, wondering if this was the best place to talk about it. Everyone was listening attentively but Severus made it clear he didn’t care at all when he spoke again.  

“Well?”

Impatience.  

 “I was walking in the gardens early this morning. Almost at dawn, I think.” She bit her lip unsure of how much to say. Brown eyes darted from Severus to Bellatrix and back.  “When I was heading back to the mansion, I saw Greyback. Once he saw me, he didn’t say anything. Not a word. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me. The bastard attacked me without provocation. I think he did it because he never expected I could defend myself.”

“Why would he think that?” The potions master rose an eyebrow skeptically.

“I didn’t have my wand with me.” Suddenly she felt threaten under the scrutiny of his eyes. “That’s why I think he assumed defenseless. He never expected wandless magic.”

He turned to look at Bellatrix. “Is it true?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there, Snivelus.” It didn’t sound like she cared anyway.

Hermione gaped at his obvious distrust. “Wait, you think I’m lying?” She didn’t know why exactly, but the fact that Snape had to confirm what she said with damned Bellatrix Lestrange, greatly bothered her

Severus’s attention remained on Bellatrix, paying no mind to the girl next to her. “I must be mistaken, then. I thought she was your responsibility or is it that you cannot keep a child under your control? We cannot afford to lose allies, Bellatrix.” Suddenly, he acted as she wasn't there anymore.

It finally had dawned on her.

Severus was angry. Not annoyed or vexed, she was familiar with those emotions. No, he was feeling real anger.

The girl’s jaw tightened. Snape didn’t even belong here; he was a fucking traitor. Why the sudden concern? Was it because of her? Was it because she killed the werewolf? Were they friends? _‘Why would he care about that useless beast?!’_

She did everything in her power to remain in her seat; biting her cheek hard to keep herself in control. Her rational part begged to give him the benefit of the doubt. The emotional one, like always, was a destructive tornado of anger, fueled by what felt something akin to betrayal.  

A high-pitched grunt came from a couple of seats far from her, distracting everyone for the next moment. “Why would he attack her? It doesn’t make sense! What I think happened was the mudblood cutting him down when he wasn’t even looking.” The twin Carrow butted in. “If we are not careful this mudblood is—"

The sudden grating sound of a chair grazing the floor captured everyone’s attention. Hermione stood with both hands resting on the table; nails scratching the wood.

With a cruel smile she focused her attention on Alecto. “No, first I threw him on the ground and broke his trachea with my heel. Then, I cut him till his torso was pulp.” Her mouth contorted into a vicious sneer. “If you don’t shut up, I will extend the same courtesy to you. And trust me, unlike Greyback, I’ll take my time with you. So shut your mouth, Carrow!” Her growl echoed in the room.

The twin was stunned before she recovered and bristled at the girl’s threats. Carrow grabbed her wand from her hostler yet didn’t take it out, she made a motion to stand up, but she stopped, suddenly uncertain.

Her brother and Rookwood shared pointed looks with one another yet said nothing to challenge Hermione or defend Alecto.

On the other side of the table, Hermione had a painful grimace; her hands trembled on each side of her body. An invasive force reached the front of her mind; it was powerful. It felt like claws piercing her head, then very slowly sliced her brain as a butcher would do to meat.  

_“Shall I punish you properly, Hermione?”_ The dark voice whispered in her mind, like a stern father to his child when they are being disobedient

She turned to look at everyone else at the table, wondering if they could hear his voice as well. “N— no, my Lord” Almost whimpering at the increasing headache.

_“Then sit down.”_

And just like that, the pain vanished; the presence left no trace of someone being in her mind in the first place. Right after, Pettigrew opened the door, letting Voldemort stepped into the room.

“Welcome again, dear friends.”

======================================================================

“Antonin, tell me what happened with Avery and the rest?”

“Avery, Jugson, and Nott were captured, my Lord.” Antonin lowered his eyes for half a second in a regretful manner. “Aurors got wind of their location.”

“Do you know how it happened?”

“No with precision, my Lord. We believe they were shirkin’ their duties. They moved from their post, maybe someone recognized them, notified the Aurors and everythin’ went south from there. Can’t say for certain, there wasn’t any sign of fight or struggle where the arresting, supposedly, took place.”

 “On that note. A letter arrived yesterday morning from Jugson, at one of the cabins in Tutshill. They wished to know if we are going to get them out of Azkaban.” Yaxley added.

The silence was broken by Bellatrix’s laugh, followed by some members bursting into smiles and snorts. Even Voldemort smirked a little.

 Hermione was among the members who didn’t find it funny. Instead, she took it as a warning. Azkaban had become a possibility the moment she joined Voldemort's ranks. Judging from everyone’s reaction in this room, there was no coming back from there. If she were to get captured alone, the chances to be rescued didn't seem likely. If she didn’t want to end up like those three, she had to be better than the Aurors.

“Needless to say, Tutshill’s hideout was seized by Aurors this morning.” The blonde man added, looking as if it was almost painful to say it. 

“How?” Voldemort asked. It was evident that the man was greatly displeased, judging by the forceful smoothing of his robes.

“We think that Jugson bought a guard to send the letter, but the guard probably gave up the address at the end.” Said Dolohov.

“Yaxley, find another place.” The dark wizard ruby eyes turn towards the man next to Draco.  

 “Rodolphus…”

The man stood up. “My Lord,” Rodolphus Lestrange had an older appearance that he should probably have. The aftermath of spending so many years in Azkaban, the girl thought. Still, despite all the wrinkles, he had handsome features. His skin was tanned, almost cinnamon-colored. Overall, he was good-looking. The brunette noticed that, unlike his wife, Rodolphus cared about his appearance. He was clean shaved. His hair, more greyish than dark at this point, was properly combed.

“Travers had managed to infiltrate the ministry, my Lord. With good timing, just as we wanted. However, every employee is now under surveillance. Travers can’t make contact with us at this moment.” He cleaned his throat, nervously.  “On the other side, we haven’t been able to find McNair. He remains in hiding, but my brother and I are convinced we are bound to find him soon.”

“Very well. Do notify me when that changes.”

Voldemort left his seat with such grace Hermione didn’t know anyone else could possess. He walked around behind the seats; noiseless steps, almost as he was floating instead of walking. As most of the time the brunette has seen him, the man was barefoot.

_‘What a curious habit for the dark wizard to have.’_  Somewhere, the brunette read that a long time ago the first forms of magic where extracted from the four elements. It was in the wind that filled their lungs; it was in the heat of the sun; the water in the rain and the ground where they stood. Perhaps Voldemort was a believer in those fables. _‘Or he just simply likes being barefooted.’_   

“Cornelius is unwilling to step down.” The man addressed everyone. “We send him threats, and yet he refuses to pull out his head out of the sand.”

“With your permission, my brother and I can kill him, my Lord.” Said Rodolphus, all too eager.

“Kill him?” Bellatrix remarked as if her husband had spoken the stupidest thing. “Why not I kill his family? That surely ought to be motivation enough. My Lord, if you allow me. I can do it.”  She glared at the Lestrange brothers “Alone”

Rodolphus sneered at her as a response. All the while, Rabastan didn’t seem all too eager to engage in anything. He barely had raised his gaze from the table during this meeting.

Hermione observed with confusion at the couple's exchange. _‘Do they hate each other?’_ That may explain why she rarely had seen Rodolphus and Bellatrix together. _‘And when they are together, they are always accompanied by others.’_ Her mind supplied. 

“Severus?”

“Right now, popular opinion polls are plummeting. I think is just a matter of waiting. Soon we'll watch the man's downfall, my Lord.”

_‘I don’t think Voldemort has the patience for that.’_

 “Hermione, you’ve been very silent.”

 “If we kill Cornelius, surely a new minister will take its place right after; this same issue will repeat again. Considering that… Travers is it? He’s the only one in the ministry so far. With no one else to support him from the inside, he might as well be useless for any chance to seize power of significant influence.”

“Hermione, ever the pragmatic.” He smiled mildly. “We have plans for that. Right now, what I want is Cornelius to resign.” Red eyes bored into her, telling her that the man needed a real answer.

_‘If Voldemort wanted to kill Cornelius, he would have done that so long ago. Nothing is stopping him to do so. Then, what does he want? What does Voldemort values above murder? Influence, power…’_

_… and everything in between.’_

“We are not to be trifle with.” The bored expression on the ivory face flashed with interest. Goosebumps appeared on Hermione's arms. It wasn’t hard to follow the man’s train of thought when he already narrowed it for her. She didn’t need to look further than the answer in her mouth; it tasted bitter.

“I— I think everything we had achieved so far, has been done from the shadows. This presents the illusion of peace and security. one that Cornelius has been using as a mantle to protect his position.”

“We can’t have that, do we?” His smile was eerie, nothing like Bellatrix’s in the morning. This one sent chills all over her back. 

She swallowed once more the bitter taste permeating her mouth. Suddenly, the brunette felt she had ingested big chunks of lead.

_‘You want to make a spectacle…’_

“You want to make a statement.”

She bit her tongue. 

“A reminder that we are here.” 

_‘…Of mass killing.’_

 “A statement at Brockdale Bridge, to be more specific.” With an open palm, he gestured towards her “One that you will lead.”

If the shock hadn’t arrived at Hermione’s features, it definitely did when he ordered her to do it. “Originally, I planned Greyback to do this, but alas, he is forever indisposed.”   

Whatever was filling her stomach had suddenly disappeared, as well as the taste in her mouth. She didn’t feel anything, her body went still, and her throat was filled with cotton balls.

_‘You promised…’_

Her new orders were to kill muggles; the thing Voldemort promised her it wasn’t necessary to do anymore. He just set her the task to do it.

_‘Liar.’_

For no other reason than the pull she felt in her chest, announcing the numbing draught was losing its effects, Hermione turned to look at Bellatrix. The woman had a victorious smile on her face, which only served to numb Hermione’s body even more. Her lips moved silently, a mute ‘I told you’ was read, followed by a wink. 

Bellatrix had been right. She was being punish for killing Greyback.

_‘You promised that I never had to…’_

“Take people with you.” The man continued. “I want chaos. Understood?”

Hermione lowered her body, in a respectful bow, so Voldemort or anyone else couldn’t see her face. Surely, she wasn’t doing a good job at hiding her shock or the storm brewing in her face. She needed a few seconds to get herself together, starting with her trembling lips.  “…Y-yes, my Lord.” 

“My Lord,” Severus interjected “She is still a minor, her magical trace hasn’t properly erased. If the Aurors were to spot her, she will become a liability.”

“Don’t worry, she’s under one of my shadow charms. She won’t…”

Hermione couldn’t hear anything after that.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort: Remember when I told you we didn't have to kill muggles, anymore. Yeah, well. Surprise! I lied. Sue me, bitch ~~~
> 
> Thank you all for of you who leave comments and kudos! They warm my heart. Let me know what you think of this chapter!! After all, kudos and comments are the sorts of currency around here.


	15. Interlude I – Killing.

                                                                                  ~Be an obedient child, be a sweet child~  
  
  Killing didn’t come easy for Hermione. The action itself broke a fundamental part of her psyche. Shapeless shadows and silent whispers followed right after she committed the evil deed. Every crack, chirp, and breath put her on high alert like a deer just heard a twig snapping in a silent forest. Shaking hands and sleepless nights for an entire month. A fierce battle happened in her mind, about principle, morality, and duty during those days. Nobody won.  
  
That day she killed the Auror in his apartment, she was drunk with rage, revenge, and promises beyond her power. By the time the Death Eaters had escaped, she was sitting on the bed in the attic at Voldemort’s hideout. The moral hangover started to appear in flashes of the Auror’s body lying on the ground. Thoughts of deep, deep guilt.  
  
  Killing was not done easily, Hermione recognized. And if people thought it was, they were simply imbeciles. Ignorant fools. They didn’t understand anything about human nature. Her mind drifted to a person she knew to possessed that very ideology. Harry Potter thought he had the guts to do this and more if the situation demanded it from him. Draco Malfoy was another who fell in that category. Both equally misguided. She could bet anything if they were to be given the opportunity, they would break under the pressure of what it meant to kill someone.  
  
Nobody could kill and sleep peacefully for the coming nights. Not if the perpetrator wished to hold their moral upstanding at the same time.  
  
  Killing came at a great cost. After the deed was committed, even in self-defense or pushed by a necessity to survive, the psychological and moral cost of the action became all-consuming of mind and body. To reconcile the action with the person who committed the very action, it required from the perpetrator a great deal of mental, physical and moral effort.  
  
To murder someone without dividing a part of her mind and to leave behind the feelings that the act itself brought with it, required a level of absolute consciousness that no normal human possessed, much less a sixteen-year-old.  
  
  Killing became easier to justify, but not without doing some mental sacrifices along the way. Using a misperception of rightfulness residing in the most primitive side of the human brain, she convinced herself that the people she killed deserved to die. By all means, those people deserved to die. Especially the likes of Greyback. It wasn’t easy, but neither difficult to find some sort of twisted virtuosity in those actions. She did justice to the victims of those who died during the confrontations. People, who otherwise would be roaming free continuing to be cancer to society. She did nothing other than to bring justice to those when the flawed magical legal system failed to aid them.  
  
The only innocence Hermione believed in, was the one of a child. The muggles were innocent but by a completely different definition. _‘I can’t kill people who don’t even know we exist.’_ They were innocent because they were ignorant.  
  
An abrupt lapse of dizziness came, giving her a sense of being almost untethered from reality. The girl nested her head in the palms of her hands, as her elbows pressed into the flesh of her knees, blinking multiple times, she absorbed her material existence once more.

The night. The half-moon. The blinking stars. The dusty balcony. The chair. The wand. The breeze touching her back and shoulders.

Everything appeared to be in order.

Except for the gentle push of Legilimency, the reason behind why Hermione had a dizzy mind seconds ago. The push had a shy nature as if asking for permission. Hard to detect, subtle, just like the caster.

No matter how soft and gently the magic attempted to reach the front of her mind, it didn’t stop the girl to release a harsh breath, letting known her displeasure.

 “What do you want?” Hermione swallowed with difficulty. The soreness in her throat had yet to fully fade. Every time she took a breath, it was like the air was sandpaper being shoved down her throat, it felt worse when she spoke. Two nights ago, she raged, yelled, and ultimately growled due to her partial transformation. She tore everything apart till the state of her room was matched by the state of her almost bleeding throat. It was close to a miracle that she could barely utter a sound when the morning came.

_“I was looking for you, wished to see you.”_ Nagini’s voice sounded sympathetic, soft. Unfortunately, it did nothing to soothe the girl’s mood. Residues of distilled scorn continued permeating her mind, sending twists inside her gut.

Fuck sympathy disguised as pity.

“I don’t think I’ll do good company Nagini.” The snake’s presence served as a reminder of her master. To separate the two beings as individuals was a difficult task at this very moment. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of resent and frustration. Why would she punish herself further by pretending she was fine with the reptile’s presence?

_“I know. That’s why I came.”_ Again with the sympathy.

Consolation, did she need it? Perhaps. Did she want it from her? No. Not when all she could think of was Nagini knowing all this time and never telling her. Hermione would be lying if she said it didn’t upset her.

It was a matter of loyalty. She understood loyalty and duty, truly. Yet even so, sometimes understanding didn’t mean feelings wouldn’t arise and make themselves at home in the already dark pit of her emotions.

_“I can taste you, Hermione. Speak your mind.”_ It sounded more like a request than a demand.

How inconvenient was that forked tongue of hers.

“I prefer not to.” Her hoarse voice gave away the resentment she felt despite her efforts to conceal it.

_“At least tell me, why are you angry with me?_

The girl’s eyes never strayed from the darkness on the horizon, as if she was searching for something between the shadows. The candlelight flickered and for a moment the irradiating heat of the flame touched her skin. ‘Why should I?’ was the first thing to came up to her mouth.

Something entirely different came out.

“Because you knew and didn’t bother to at least warn me.” That’s all she wanted from the snake, a warning before she got brutally blindsided.

She imagined once those words were spoken, her chest would become lighter. It didn’t. The feeling remained there, heavy in her chest. Now she craved for an answer. She didn’t need an answer 5 seconds ago. Then why was she holding her breath?

“I couldn’t leave his side, otherwise I might…”

What a cheap excuse.  
  
“Why? Were you busy?” Hermione interrupted. “I imagine that being petted while hanging from the Lord’s neck must be such an exhausting job.” The remaining scorn in her body came neatly laced into her words.

What was she expecting? She already knew the answer; Nagini made it very clear several weeks ago. Why did she crave for more?  
  
She wanted to hear something that was just not simply possible. What she needed was to give up her impossible standards, and be content that someone cared about her, however limited that was.  
Her hands gripped the cushions of the lounge chair as the white noise extended in her mind. The snake’s unwillingness to engage in her remark turned quite evident with every passing second.  
  
Even in silence, Nagini had scolded Hermione, making her feel as if she was being patronized or ignored like a child throwing a tantrum.

Right. If the master’s pet wasn’t willing to talk neither will she.

Her mouth tasted sour. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she recognized that her words and behavior were petty. Perhaps even unfair.

Her nails dug deeper into the jute fabric as if in doing so it anchored her further into her wavering resentment.

What a familiar sensation, the texture was rough against her fingers. Her eyes remained fixed in the shadows as she found herself remembering that this type of fabric was the same as the hammock her dad bought and probably even now remained hanging in the backyard. Mom hated it, said it was rough on her skin. Ironically enough, it turned to be mother’s favorite place to nap on weekends.  
  
The brunette sighed with the memory leaving through her nostrils.  
  
Every time a memory of her parents resurfaced, they never failed to bring her to think of Dumbledore. As if somehow her parents and the headmaster have always been tangled together. And if she thought of Dumbledore, her mind drifted to Voldemort. If she thought about the dark wizard, then she thought of her parents and the reason why she was here living at Malfoy’s mansion. And she thought her parents, her thoughts were to Dumbledore. A fucked-up triangle that bought her despair, rage, and melancholy with equal measure. _  
_  
An unexpected weigh came from behind, sinking the cushions. Before the girl could react Nagini was slithering around her arms and torso. The cold touch came as an immediate reprieve for the fire on the brunette’s skin. Hermione closed her eyes and focused her attention on the cool feeling. Unlike the late-night breeze blowing now and then, this did the work.  
  
_“Your skin is prickly, hmm electrifying. Very hot.”_ The long body rubbed over whatever spot of naked skin was uncovered _“Hmm, your ill-temper tastes like burnt garlic and faltum mushroom. They are not my favorite smells.”_ Her tongue flickered once more _“But then, you had become an acquired taste.”_  
  
Perhaps it was the fondness in how Nagini said it, or maybe the meaning behind her attempt of humor what gave her the chance to get out of her toxic thoughts. And just like that, her mind quieted down. Mostly. Veiled under the comforting touch. That she didn’t need. At all.

The clouds in the sky flew across it with great speed, as if they were escaping from something horrifying beyond the mountains up north. A contrast from the stillness and calmness on the ground, which suddenly felt frozen in time.  
  
The candlelight danced all over a pair of intelligent eyes. The dark slits adorning the center were almost non-existent. Abruptly, they opened wide and Nagini began to talk again. _“He was— is angry at you. That day, he was going to torture you.”_ It sounded more like a confession than something she originally planned to say.  
  
This surprised Hermione. Nagini wasn’t one to share much about her master’s decisions.

After all, wasn’t that the answer?  
  
The girl didn’t hesitate to believe her. At that time, she didn’t know exactly what was it that she saw. But now, as she replayed the exchange in her memory, there were several signs of Voldemort being angry. The constant twitch on his wrist was one of many examples; the two times he looked at her wand, was another instance. But most of the cues disappeared when his attention drifted to Nagini for the first time during their talk.  
  
“You convinced him not to…”  
  
The snake’s head came to rest on the girl’s lap. A silent confirmation.  
  
This time, she knew Nagini had nothing to benefit from helping her. Something twisted in her gut, brown eyes strayed on an empty spot on the floor.

_‘The ungrateful part has been covered already, Miss Granger.’_ Narcissa’s voice made an appearance in her head, followed by Bellatrix's taunting voice. _‘Ungrateful girl.’_

Was she being ungrateful? Taking help for granted?

Gently, she placed a hand on the snake body. Muscle trembled and contracted under the palm of her hand as she caressed the scaled body.

“Thank you.” Sincere words despite being uttered in a silent murmur. Her mouth opened again as if to speak something else, an apology maybe. But after a few intents, nothing came out.  
  
The snake hummed, whether it was in agreement or because of the caresses, Hermione couldn’t tell.  
  
Hermione couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment Nagini decided that she enjoyed the girl’s touch. It just happened. Similar to when the snake decided to talk to the witch for the first time. It just happened. While the brunette seemed to be hesitant at first, in both instances, now it felt like the most natural of interactions between them.

“I’m angry at him.” A confession of her own. Not that Nagini didn’t know already.

_“It doesn’t matter.”_ The snake withdrew from the girl’s touch. _“Do not fail this time, Hermione. You can’t afford it, do you understand?”_ Nagini’s voice turned serious, with a twinge of anxiety behind all ominous tone.  

The brunette shook her head, internally sneering at the idea of committing such atrocities. “He promised…” Her dark mood stirred once more.

Nagini rose like a cobra ready to strike, but biting wasn’t in the snake’s intentions. Far from it, she only wished to capture Hermione’s whole attention. _“No Hermione, he did not say such thing!”_

“He did! You might have forgotten! but that day he said—” The girl made an attempt to stand up but the snake didn’t let her. The weight itself was enough to make her remain in her place.

_“He said there was no need at that moment. Now the need has arisen again.”_ The snake explained as if it was that simple and logical. Which only served to push Hermione further.

“That’s it?” She tried to yell, not only failing at it but almost visibly winced at the pain in her throat. She didn’t care. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. The need has arisen again? What’s that supposed to mean? He never specified that things might change in the future. He lied to me! He is a liar! and now I have—”

_“It means that you were stupid enough to kill him!”_ The snake hissed loudly; her patience had reached the limit.  

The pause that came after was almost physically painful for both of them.

Angry spoken words reverberated in the girl’s head like a bad mantra. Scolded again by another member, it almost made her feel doubtful and almost regretful of her actions in the first place.

The pained expression on Hermione was enough to make the snake looked away for a few seconds. Her hold finally became loose around the warm body. If the witch wished to stand up, there wasn’t anything holding her down.

Hermione remained still.

_“He didn’t lie. He wasn’t planning in sending you to kill muggles. If you hadn’t done it, you wouldn’t be in this spot. But it is done; own your decisions and face the consequences, Hermione.”_ Nagini crawled behind the girl’s nape, like someone’s arm across her shoulders. Trying to recover the moment they were having a moment ago, she pressed her cold head over the girl’s cheek. _“You’ll take over his tasks till you find a replacement. After that, I believe everything will return to normal.”_

“I’m a muggle-born.”

_“You are a witch. The rest have little importance.”_

“You don’t understand, I— I don’t want to kill innocent people. Innocent muggles.” The young witch hated how broken she sounded.

_“If you want revenge if you truly want to avenge your parents. You’ll do it. Dumbledore can’t get away with this, can he?”_ Nagini said it said the same venom of someone who has been wronged.

The mere thought of Dumbledore getting away with murder, accelerated her heart rate and her magic became itchy on the tip of her fingers. Something in her primitive brain stirred filled with dark impulses. “No, he can’t.”

_“No, he can’t”_ The snake echoed.

“Nagini.”

_“Yes?”_

“If he had tortured me, I’d still have to do it, right?”

_“Yes.”_

She didn’t know what was expecting. Voldemort’s primary concern wasn’t about teaching her a lesson. It was about making up for her mistakes.

A forked tongue touched her right cheek, it tickled. _“Jadilah anak yang taat, Hermione. Jadilah anak manis.”_ Said Nagini as softly and tender as she could muster. Close to her right ear, as if somehow, she was whispering it next to Hermione and not in her mind.

“What’s that?”

_“Is something my mother used to tell me, sayang.”_

“And what do seiyan means?”

_“Sa-yang; it means sweetheart.”_ a warm feeling settled in her chest at hearing the affectionate term. _“You’ll be fine, sayang. Don’t worry.”_

She knew there was no going back after joining Voldemort ranks. She was conscious of her decision. However, knowing and experiencing were two different things, as she has come to learn just now. She felt torn, and probably that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Despite the rational thoughts telling her that no matter how much thinking she did, there was only one possible outcome if she wanted to continue existing.

To make chaos was the price of admission. There was no other way around it, was there?

And yet something remained clear as the sky in spring-time. She wanted to see Dumbledore’s face when she throws the killing curse at him. More than anything, she wanted to make him suffer.

Killing was a necessary evil, Hermione concluded. If she wished to further her agenda, orders must be followed and actions must be taken. When she started this path, a promise was made. She swore to kill Dumbledore or die trying. Anything else must be considered an obstacle.

And if her conscience and morality were an obstacle…

The brunette took a deep breath and decided to let her mind rest at least for the next hours. She remained seated with Nagini on top, enjoying her company. Both continued being indifferent at the ticking clock or the moon changing its position in the sky, just as much as time and celestial bodies remained indifferent towards their presence on this planet.

“This brings memories, don’t you agree?”

_“It wasn’t a long time ago.”_

“Yeah, sorry is just t—”

_“No, I get what you mean. I feel the same, Hermione. I do. But those times my intentions weren’t the best. You know that.”_

“I don’t mind. You were honest. I can respect that.” Her knuckles grazed the soft skin on the snake’s head. She appreciated that Nagini has been always straight forward with her.

“I’m sorry.” It came naturally, like the rest of their interactions. She wasn’t ungrateful, she needed time, that was all.

_“I know.”_

And judging by Nagini’s tone, she really knew.

“By the way, I think I’m mak—”

_“Let’s not talk about that now.”_ The snake interrupted, unwilling to talk about deals and promises. She nuzzled further into the crook of her neck. _“I’m a little cold.”_

“I can always cast warming charm for you.” She kindly offered.

Killing should come easily for Hermione. After all, she already had a trail of body count behind. What was a couple more? Any thoughts of guilt, any feelings of regret would soon be overshadowed by her own needs to succeed.

After everything, one of her most remarkable abilities was her adaptability.

Maybe it was time to let the deontological constraints loose around her body, and let Nagini be the only one to take hold of her just like right now.

The snake grunted in disagreement. _“And deprive me of your warm? Never.”_ The brunette could feel Nagini’s tightening just a little more on her body, silently telling her how unwilling she was to let her go.

Hermione’s heart felt a little less heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a chapter. Chapter 15 follows after this. 
> 
> Super kudos to anyone who can distinguish Nagini's mother tongue at first sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism would be deeply appreciated. And let me know if you like it so I can continue writing it.


End file.
